Sterile Skies
by Kasan Soulblade
Summary: They said the skies were empty, would always be, that was thier promise to him. Still, he craved those empty, skies. He craved flight more than anything else in the World. Real or otherwise. Pre-INFECTION, timline, finished and edited. Balmung centric
1. After One Sin: a division

Sterile skies

Intro: After the One Sin: a division

To my readers,

Ran a spell check and tweaked a few sentences for clarity. No major changes beyond that. Expect the other chapters to be similarly fixed during the next week and a half. Once that's done I will add the "complete" tag onto this story.

Kasan Soulblade

It was empty, would always be so. For sake of money, to avoid complication, the sky was inviolate, untouchable. Winds would stir, rains would fall, the eyes of malevolent mad gods would peer down… But beyond those cosmetic touches of the real, the sky was empty.

He'd been told this after his request. Some alternative had been offered. A skill outside his base made permanent perhaps. When he'd ruefully shaken his head, smiling all the while, they had offered a status boost. Orca, never one to be finicky, had happily accepted that offer.

"Think of where we can go, Balmung! If only we were stronger!"

He'd laughed at that, but hadn't conceded the point. Looking Lios in the eye, Balmung simply smiled, shook his head, saying no without words.

And with words, he confirmed his stance, though it really didn't need any more stating.

"It's what I want. All I want. If you can't give it to me, then I'll understand."

Golden eyes met his own, unblinking, their owner unflinching as he faced down such an absolute demand.

"Why? Even if we did it wouldn't alter things statistically. It'd just be a more grandiose substitute to walking."

To that Balmung shrugged, still smiling.

"It'll be empty. We can't install flying monsters just for you, you know. The limitations on other players… It'd upset the balance of the system."

"It don't want that, wouldn't want that." Balmung assured. "Order must be maintained after all."

And to that the stern lines around the portly administrators' face eased. He smiled then, a wry grin shaded with something like wonder. They were, in a way, kindred spirits. To that rarity all the walls came down, and Lios smiled, and warmed.

"I'll see what we can do."

"Thank you."

He spoke to a fracturing image however, and was unsure if he'd even been heard. The man before him wavered, solidarity flickering into green frames. Then, even those broke down into a viridian haze sprinkled with ones and zeros that winked out like stars before dawn. One blink later, and even that suggestion of the man was gone.

Blowing a quiet whistle of amazement, Orca shook his head.

"Those big kahunas sure know how to make an exit don't they?"

"Indeed."

"Well, I'm off. Gunna catch me some dinner and bed."

To that Balmung nodded, the gesture set the silver locks of his hair to shivering. With a noise that conceded that h was going to do the same the silver Knight pawed through a few menus, his avatar digging through non-existent pockets in his plate mail armor. A few moments later and he found his sprite ocarina; a quick look up told him that Orca had already found his.

"Tomorrow?" Orca pressed.

"Of course." the Knight agreed.

Each lifted an ocarina a head. Their motions were much like a toast taken in the real world. Their eyes met, a smile shared between the two, then the golden light swept them away.

XXXX

He lay on his back, the softness of his bed at his back, the models of planes and birds hung above his head, suspended by colorless, gossamer threads. Besides him, on his bed stand, almost complete, was another model. He rolled the complete wings in his fingers, and dreamed while awake.

Angular shadows chased each other above his head; the wind let in via an open window set the models to shaking. Pseudo steel struck artificial feathers. There was… something almost primal about the soft, continual clatter.

_When are you going to make something of yourself Satoshi? All you do is read, or play games, or dink around with your stupid models! So what if you're someone important in that game-world of yours. It'll all blow over in a year or two. You can't be thinking to actually make a future of it…_

And so on and so forth, such was the lecture that intruded on his dreams

He closed his eyes, deciding that sleeping dreams were safer than the "awake" variety. They would do him best; distance himself from the harrowing shame of a lecture best forgotten. Such dreams were his final shield against such hard headed realism, and he fled, always fled, first in dreams… than more recently in the World.

At his side, still unopened, contents unread lay C.C Corp's letter. Their response to his request of wings and other things… He hadn't the courage to open it, not after the protest of both parents, and honestly he didn't want too. Not with Mother and Father's complaints sounding loud in his head and skewing his sight. Scrunching his eyes, clenching his hands into firsts, he willed the dreams to come faster, to take him away.

"Satosh'?" Tentative came the name, _his_ name, his door creaked open a little.

With the barest of crackles the wing snapped in his hand, shattering subtly within.

"I don't want to talk now Mother." Rolling over so she couldn't see the tears in his eyes, Balmung of the Azure Sky curled into himself. Such were the depths of his cowardice, so deep and dark that they made him… cold. "Please." He beggared. "Not now."

Cradling the broken wing to his heart he shivered as the first tears took him, sneaking past closed eyes to tease his cheeks with wet fingers.

"Sa-"

"Not now." Though choked it came out firm, suiting… this other self… the Knight of Fianna… more than the half grown man before her. Mother didn't know that though, she only started in shock, knowing something was different but unable to tell what. "In the morning, we can talk about it, but _not now_."

To that, his wishes, Mother folded. The creek of the door closing, the murmured "sleep tight" all confirmed this. Once sure he was alone, confident she wouldn't come back, his front of courage broke. Shaking, shivering, he sobbed into the pillow, wishing so fervently that it bordered in feverish that he wasn't so... Alone…

"_Hubris divides, power corrupts, evil is ultimately stagnant because of this. The lines between heroes and villains are a fine one, cast in intent, lost in cause, and only reclaimed in the perspective of others."_

He wished he didn't know who'd said that. It would have made it easier to hear, easier to dismiss when those familiar words rose in his head. A detached commentary, some subconscious babbling before sleep, that's all it could have been. But it wasn't. How could it be when the words were his own, and yet were not?

"Shut up Balmung." He whispered into the pillow, still shaking.

The silence in his head was blessedly complete; the dreams that fowled were bitterly empty, utterly dark. Thus he slept, till dawn.


	2. Of FinancesOf Apples

Sterile skies

chapter 2

To my readers,

Well here's chapter two, hope it pleases... also, an aside to "zvnnaktkive". I've no idea what you were trying to send me, show me, etcetera. The site -and my email- cuts up URL addresses so they can't be used. You may have to send whatever it was through another method. Kasan Soulblade.

extended author's note: for future reference (and since I can't find out for sure). Here's a quick note on Grunty.. or rather the word Grunty.

Singular, as in one grunty, spelled grunty. If owned by a grunty (trade item ect.) than grunty's. Multiple grunty equals grunties. Items owned by a herd of grunty would be grunties'. Well, hopefully that's right but that's how I'll be spelling it from here on out. 

_"-and we of CC Corp give Moderator rights and power to the PC Balmung. The following titles the "Azure Sky" and "Knight of Fianna" will also be granted officially to this party. This name is legally copyrighted; intellectual party of PC owner Balmung and only to be associated with the character data in question..."_

Looking up from his reading, Father sputtered. "What _is_ all this?"

Still immersed in her reading, Mother dissected the moderator's contract and pay schedule where he would be "paid to play" with the keen eye of an accountant. With a hum that wasn't really an answer but would serve as one, Mother didn't respond, merely flipped a page over.

"Satoshi?" Father turned name into a demand.

Mouthful of eggs in a basket, he couldn't answer. Unwilling to sacrifice dignity with an unclothe "murph?" he focused on chewing. Eventually one must swallow, and when he did Father's unwavering stare made repeating the question unnecessary.

"Orca and I... or rather Balmung, my PC...l go under the team name "the descendants of Fianna". That's what we're called in a group when we work together."

"PC?" Father demanded, flaunting his lack of knowledge in a biting tone that told all about how much he hated being "out of the know".

"Player character." Satoshi explained, seeking to sooth. "The person you pretend to be in the World."

In trying to cleanse his words of computer jargon he knew he'd made a mistake. Via the special, magical, possibly-linked-to-genetics-not-upbringing flash called intuition, Satoshi was well aware of what his damnation had come from. That word, _pretend_. More suited to a child of five (and excusable when found there) not a young man of eighteen, the lapse more than insured damnation, it guaranteed it. Father rose an eyebrow, to that Satoshi took a rather large chomp out of his breakfast. He used the motions of chewing like Balmung used a level one scroll against an impossible enemy. To stall and wait for an opening.

Or a respite.

"Calc."

Blinking father poked in his pockets looking for what wasn't there. Satoshi, knowing where the device really was, just went to the junk cabinet, rummaged, and found it. Quest complete he gave the item to Mother. Thoughtfully turning the calculator "on" before passing it over. For that, Mother cast him a quick smile of gratitude that eased the knots in his guts a bit.

"You… pretend, _play pretend_, in this game of yours?" Father grated out, and the tension and its accompanying knots came back, full force.

"I'm a respected member of the community." Satoshi snapped.

"Respected?" Father growled. Respectability in his mind meant holding down a job, being honest and honorable to your family, and being loyal to your country. Satoshi, ever his father's son, _knew _that. Furthermore he acted accordingly _despite_ all skepticism to the contrary.

"I have a job; it's called being a blade master. I've earned the title knight, which is a sub class of the blade master occupation, and it's only rewarded to those who act both valorous and courteous in all instances. Twice a week, I train newbies -people totally new to the game- in how to play, and I give tours of the World." Checking the urge to grit his teeth, Satoshi took another savage bite instead. The way this was going, breakfast wasn't going to last much longer.

"Are you even_ listening _to yourself? Seriously, Satoshi? A knight? You've-"

A sharp rap on the table top cut off Father's rant, and to that his son was relieved. Seeing she had everyone's attention, Satoshi's mother tossed her own two cents in. And, per her quirkiness, it hardly related to the scene before her.

"I need two pieces of paper, a pen, white out, and last year's tax return."

Thrown off by the sharp tangent, Father blinked, lost his thought. He got it back though, quick and sure.

"Yuki I'm trying to wake the boy up to reality here!" The boy in question dropped his gaze, eyes glaring holes into the table he scowled so terribly. Oblivious, Father carried on. "Is it that bloody important?"

Small face serious, Mother nodded the dark eyes behind her glasses serious.

"It might be. But I don't want to say for sure until I work all this out in front of me."

Sullen, surprised, Father grunted, then stood. "I'll get it." Tromping to his feet he stormed off to do as he'd promised.

"So." Lips quirking in a small smile, Mother's tone made Satoshi look up, and Mother met Son's gaze without a bit of anger or disgust in her eyes. To that Satoshi softened, some of his anger fading. "You're a knight, are you?"

And, because it was appropriate and felt right he let an equally small smile touch his lips. The voice that slid past his lips was his, but the words were not.

"Balmung, white knight of the Azure sky, descendant of Fianna, at your service, mi'lady."

And to that, mother laughed. Long, loud, and sure, Even after Father's return.

XXX

"You-" Orca's voice ever gruff and horse greeted his arrival, it was a welcome slice of normalcy. "-are late?"

"Why so tentative old friend?" Balmung greeted. Steel topped boots setting leaves and the like to flying. Unlike regular, plain old leaves, there were hues of purple and blue secreted amongst the more fiery, mundane, colors. Some were mushy, others brittle. Though childish he always felt the urge to kick off his boots, test the earth under the loom for a while.

Perhaps that's why he avoided wood areas so often, fear he'd give out to temptation and be seen doing so.

"The clock just turned. So you were sort of late."

To that Balmung laughed a soft chuckle that Orca always out boomed without even trying. When the moment passed both were smiling, familiar, friendly smiles.

"Alright, so why are we here?" Balmung asked, still smiling. "At a dungeon ten levels lower than us?"

"Well... considering One Sin was twenty levels higher than both of us put together I thought we could use a break."

"-And?" Balmung pried, knowing from how his gaze wasn't met, the ever so slight pause before the word "considering" and the slightly rushed quality to the whole that something was a foot. Well, that and the fact he knew Orca. They were friends after all, there was always that and the fact that friends who didn't know friends were merely acquaintances.

And he'd have none of those. Not one, it was all or nothing, for both of them. Perhaps, that was what made them get along so well, they both felt the same.

Taking heart from Balmung's soft smile, Orca met smile with a grin. "Well... I need some mushrooms." Balmung's smile was fast to fade, but since he'd started, Orca finished. "You know... for my Grunty."

"I don't like Grunties."

"I know that."

Smile well and gone, Balmung settled the matter of temptation with a compromise. Scuffing a steel shoed roe against the foliage he took heart in the delicate sounds, the crunch and crinkle and cool that teased his toes. It was a temporary respite, and when it was over reality came to roost in force. As a knight he was constrained to obey any honorable request put to him, but this felt a little too much like degradation.

"How many do you need?" The knight ground out.

"Five."

Checking a sigh, the Azure Sky, nodded.

"Let's get this over with." He grunted.

"Hey, after we're done..."

"-No." Balmung snapped. Cutting off the request before it could be completed neatly spared him a task. And knowing Orca as he did, he'd probably just barely nicked out of a long and tedious visit to his best friend's Grunty Farm.

"But..."

"I." Balmung growled out each word, blue eyes flashing with something like murderous intent in their depths. "Do. Not. Like. Grunties."

"So I gathered." Orca sighed, running a hand over the back of his head the blade master sighed. "To mushrooms then?"

"If we must." The knight grumbled, more than showing his discontent over this "quest".

"Don't tell me you don't like item hunting?" Orca gaped.

"It's not that." Balmung sighed. "I just don't like it when stuff I normally eat looks up and negotiates with me."

Orca snickered, and to that Balmung blushed.

"Seriously, it's just... wrong..." The white knight groused. "I don't even eat apples any more, not after that last one screamed at me!"

Snickers became chuckles, which in turn grew into full blown howls. Face so hit it must be crimson, the knight of Fianna was grateful that not everything translated from real to World. Ignoring Orca's half strangled protest, Balmung of the Azure Sky gritted his teeth and marched off in search of... Mushrooms. Of all the stupid things.

As for how hard this would be? Well it'd be easy, a small blessing amongst this humiliation. After all, to find food in the World one merely just followed the screaming.


	3. Unshead Wind

Sterile skies

Chapter 3

That unshed wind

Post editing note,

Does anyone knew if it's official canon for say… blade master, wave master, and the other game titles to be split into two words, or are they all jammed into one. I got my games used and I don't have the manual to check. Regardless, I'm splitting the titles into two words as needed for now.

Kasan Soulblade

There were times it seemed the wind must speak. When it spilled from the sky it's pitch varied as it caught the edges of blockish buildings and scrapped its belly against the unending, varied stripes of road. Never mind the brackish coil of chemical, the smothering slant of smog. He turned to the passing gale. Twirling even, and to that it's center tugged at his shirt and pants as it passed him by with teasing, translucent, hands. Then it was gone, the pull and the tug, the pitch, it had left him behind.

And those things he'd "never minded". The smother and the coil to say nothing of the sounds, it all rushed back in. Stifling and thick. Opening eyes he'd scrunched his hands slipped into the sanctuary of his pant pockets. The moment was gone, and its attendant euphoria faded as he folded back into himself. He went so far as to hunch his shoulders, though he wasn't cold. There was something inherently subdued about his regular posture.

Not quite whipped, or hung dogged. There was nothing of agonies remembered, or burdens carried about him. Though fond of responsibility and holding to duty it wasn't a burden, not yet. Rather, his folding had something of containment to it, as he silently smothered in the pressures of the everyday. Bending to the inevitable weight of reality. Letting out a soft sigh, he wished for blue skies, with cotton clouds. A glance on high confirmed what he'd known before.

Grey and grit, blockish pillars sliced the sky, hiding the sun amongst their leafless bulk. Still, he spent some time looking. Long wistful moments, where his blue eyes combed heaven seeking that invisible source of illumination. Above and behind him came a cherry _ding_, above and ahead red became green. Dropping his gaze to more mundane matters, he forsook heaven to better consider the cars all lined up in a neat row. Their engines were roiling and rumbling in discontent, still they were still, and that was enough.

Sneakers thunking on gravel and grit he crossed the street, leaving school and all its complications behind. The tick tap of his book swollen back pack smacked against him and made him correct himself. Not all its complications were to be abandoned when he quit the building. Like everything else, the worst of the worst followed him home.

XXX

Sometimes he used a skill, some leaping attack that while grandiose, satiated his need to get a taste of flight. Still, without wings, such sorties into the sky were always far too short and ended in a sharp descent. His fall was made all the sharper by the fact his descent was led by his blade.

Blue light, pale as sky, subtle as moon light, stained the lines and angles of his gauntleted arm. Cast in wholesome hues long forgotten amongst the real, he held his weapon tight, steady. The gentle illumination became a gush of water as his blade scored a hit along the massive skeleton's rib cage. Sent spinning, side slick by the Azure Sky's strike, the diabolical bones staggered back.

The monster was forced into the waiting arms of the Azure Sea. _His _blade looking hellish in red, Orca struck, the underhand slash spat out a thick tongue of flame that illuminated the violet swells and pulsates that serves as roof, wall, and floor, of the dungeons in nearly wholesome hues. Wreathed in steam, sparks of fire dancing about the monster's edges, the undead devil swung a clawed hand. Orca was closest, and so claws scrapped against the raised sword that the Blade Master wielded in his own defense.

Without thinking, only feeling the urge to fly, be free, protect, he leaped. And descended. Such was the way of all leaps. White cape clapping before him like the flap of some vengeful angles' wings, water poured from his blade, smothering steam and snuffing out embers. And, perhaps, in that water there was something of ice. Hit with cold, than hot, than cold again, the bone's had shrunk than swollen, and at last shattered at that final slash of cold.

Lip less mouth sagging into a soundless scream, the undead monstrosity slumped on one side, half its ribcage exploding with a sound akin to nothing he'd ever heard in the Real. Throwing an arm over his eyes to better block out any stray shrapnel, Balmung flinched back even as the beast toppled. And, even as it fell, the malice that served the devil for AI lashed out.

Unable to see he couldn't dodge the thrown out arm. Swatted aside like a troublesome gnat, Balmung only knew he'd been sent flying after the fact. His first hint was the horrible bruising pressure at his front, like taking a battling ram to the chest, the second hint was the sickening crunch as his armored back crashed into a wall made of... whatever. A... whatever... that pulsated and shifted, that was swollen and bulbous and... Purple.

Cracking open an eye, he groaned, then nearly gagged. Grey slime trickled down from the... whatever... wall. The stuff slicked his cape and shoulders and dampened his hair. It's smell went well beyond that piddling description of "unpleasant" or "odoriferous", it had something like bad eggs, was generously mixed with stale sweat, and there was just an under scent of unclean socks just to round it all out. But it was worse, much worse, for being on him. All he had to do was turn his head just a little and the smell would all but be stuffed up his nose.

Running a tongue over his lips, half expecting to taste blood, find broken teeth (or worse find out what _it_ tasted like) Balmung dared one breath. When his guts didn't come up and his ribs didn't slash his lings to cheerful ribbons, he dared another. Then, daring done, he got back to breathing and tried not to cry from the pain of it all. He wanted to puke, the smell was that bad and vomit might obscure the scent, but he wouldn't. Confident that he was in control he stood, pointedly ignoring the "sluck" as the wall grudgingly gave up its hold over his armor. The near musical scrape of sword against bone being all the prompt he needed.

Clutching his side, sword still in hand, the Azure Sky growled a curt "I'm coming" never knowing if Orca would hear him or not.

Never mind if Orca could hear him, or would take heart from it. It had to be said, he had to act. So he did, staggering back into the fray.

XXX

Orca always got the Golden Grunty. Balmung's prejudice just wouldn't let it be any other way. So, bubbling over like a little kid (only more so) the warrior capered about, pleased with his prize. He happily showed it off to his audience of one (who wasn't surprised, and his distracted "that's nice" hadn't been very heartfelt) until some sense returned. Realizing how silly he was, Orca sobered, just a teny tiny bit. Not only did Balmung _Not Like Grunties_, he'd been present from dungeon's starts to cataclysmic battle with the devil bones finish. Deciding to find a more appreciative audience he could brag at, Orca had warped out and made Mac Anu his first stop.

Knowing Orca, Mac Anu would likely be his first stop of five. He'd hit every city before logging out, or being forced to log out. And, to that, Balmung smiled. One sprite ocarina and a recorder stop later and he'd logged out.

And after logging out he took a shower, a nice long hot one.

Something of the smell lingered, in his memories if nowhere else. So he cleaned up grateful that the shower could purge him of the ghost sensations a World ago. Stepping out of the shower, idly drying himself off with a rough towel, the Real came back... took him back... in stages. Exchange cool confidence for uncertainly, check that off. He'd nearly slipped on a span of wet tile, and that mere accident had set his heart to racing. A glance at the history book waiting for him in his bed reinforced more mundane uncertainties. Just the sight of it brought forth the fact he was merely Satoshi and what dreams and powers he held as Balmung were long behind him. Going back to a duty deferred, he started that history essay he'd been putting off. And another facet came back. Though he wished it otherwise there was a frustrating, creeping, knowledge that he didn't know enough. Not enough to breeze through a class that "should have been" easy. Just read and write; to quote the teacher, that's all that was expected. Still, it was always a struggle, that writing part, and he muddled along forgetting both Real and World and became immersed in familiar frustrating effort. Done, at long last, he set pencil aside with a grateful sigh. He had no plans at all, just wanting to lounge for a while.

A tap at his door made him start. And the last and darkest of realizations settled in place. Even as mother than father trooped in he faced the most hated yet utterly true epiphanies. Balmung was powerful, capable of taking his own destiny in his own hands and doing... whatever needed to be done. What was right, always that, always ethical, a bit cautions mind, but there was no sin in that. Regardless of what restraints his honor put on him Balmung could act and would if needed.

At this moment, facing those he loved best, he found himself braced. Fighting against their expectations, tensed for their displeasure, Satoshi knew he was frozen. He couldn't act, not against their wishes, not even for his dreams. If he dared otherwise he'd shatter as real world and law met and left him bereft of opportunity. And... if he broke, all would break thereafter. Shivering just a bit as that long known but newly acknowledged truth hit home he didn't smile. He couldn't. Though they must expect it of him, and never mind how it's lack would worry them...

Setting his pencil aside he took up a pen. Homework compete, he waited for their judgment, for their condescending words bracketing an acidic anticipated refusal. Little did they know how it would break his whole world. He wanted this, almost as much as flight, only more so. Considering the sky was part of his bargain it made this moment doubly important, doubly painful. The standoff was tense, father half in the room, mother lingering by the door. He drew a breath, and then promptly forgot how to breathe. Again, it came to waiting, as he expected the worst and prayed for something like Balmung's courage to face it down when it came.

For him, there was no hope, I just… wasn't allowed.

"We've considered..." Mother began, tentative, soft, soothing.

His heart sunk, he _knew_ that tone.

"What's it to you?" Father cut in.

Startled, he stared, his lungs recalling how to breathe they picked up their end again even as his heart quickened its pace.

"Don't... for God's _sake _Satosh, don't look at me like _that_." Father snapped. "I asked you a question."

His traitorous heart shimmied up his throat, squeezed his voice box with pulsating fingers. Closing his eyes, his hand clasped over the pen, his mind imagining greater things. Perhaps he held the hilt of Excalibur, Masamune, or some other legendary blade. Then his eyes opened, and even from the corner of his eye he knew. They pen was just that, a pen, and nothing more.

"Bah." Father snorted, turned away. He ignored Mother's soft noise to call him back, more than willing to bull past her to leave, his disgust made them both nothing in his eyes. "Must mean nothing to you if you can't even-"

"Everything."

To that Father stopped, Mother stared, for though his voice quaked his tone was firm, the word so... final it shook them both.

"The way you talk." Father half turned, face studiously blank. "I could understand it if you were talking about some girl, or work, or a profession, perhaps."

"The World, it's everything to me."

"The_ World_." Scoffing father tuned away. "Pft. Call it whatever you want ills a game, and games grow old, people grow up, and it'll all be forgotten in a year or two."

"Maybe, maybe not." Satoshi shrugged. "Right now it's what I want."

Striding towards the door, Mother moved aside at Father's approach. At the threshold however, father stopped, played with the door knob. Literally one step from storming out Father stared at the air in front of him, as if it meant more than his son. Then, after a moment Father swallowed, in the silence about them Satoshi could almost hear it. "Satoshi, try to grow up, just a little, alright?"

Mouth as traitorous as his heart, it opened and a truth spilled out. "I'm not the one who's looking away."

The crash of the door slamming shut set planes and birds to swaying on near invisible threads. For a while there was only that primitive clatter of wing against wing. Above and beyond, framed by the wall, shadows chased shadows, clashing silently over his head. Falling back on his bed, all to better watch the silent swaying, Satoshi said nothing. He'd said enough, perhaps too much.

"He said yes, you know." Mother noted. "Not because he thinks its right, or even best, but because..." To that mother sighed.

"Because you said yes?" Satoshi prompted.

"No." A chuckle, soft and brittle, like the crackle of a breaking wing. "Because out of all we've tried, and all you've done, this is _all _that's made you happy. The only thing." A soft sound, much like a muffled sob, to that he rolled, looked up at her in concern even as she looked away. "That scares me, more than just a little."

"Mother," he struggled to sit up, the softness of the bed making it something of a fight. "I-"

The words abandoned him, all of them. Finally, when it became apparent he had nothing to say, Yuki sighed. "Sleep well, my little white knight."

The expected "goodnight mother." never came, it wouldn't come. He'd been more than abandoned, he'd been betrayed. The words clogged his throat, and at that obstruction the expected was lost. And that loss was best told by the glimmer about her eyes that marked her unshed tears.


	4. The Contract

Sterile skys

chapter 4

The contract

a/n: I like Lios. Quite a bit, even though his _is_ a pig head. I wanted to explore a tentative friendship between them both. This is the first part of that.

It was white, white and still, sterile yet bright. Illuminated from above, from below, light seeped from the corners and edges, licked about the distant horizon. White light fell from the sunless sky. He blinked and squinted at that harsh illumination, his mind providing a soft hum all on its own. Bemused by the internal soundtrack of the moment, the dull buzz found amongst neon signs sound clip was in repeat, locked in a dreaded loop that was annoying as it was continuous…. Still, he endured the sound and light, without complaint. Shaking his head, armored frame stuffed in a chair too modern for his mid-evil inclined avatar, Balmung sat when prompted and waited motionlessly. He retrained from fiddling with his fingers, smoothing his cloak, or kicking his feet at the glass table that was situated between himself and... his present companion. Though the "ching" of steel boots against the mysterious flooring would have provided some sound, perhaps a hope of driving that internal sound out, he endured without indulgence.

_Discipline._

Recalling a lesson never really forgotten, he sat straighter, forcing his eyes... if not wide at least to their proper width. Flicking one gauntleted hand up, he pushed back a bit of fringe from his eyes. It fell back in place, all but nipping at his eyes. Still, he never flinched, not from the bite, from his present associated unblinking stare, from none of it.

"All are present?" Dull, disinterested, the voice may have been, but the portly man's golden eyes were riveted upon that of the other before him with a dangerous intensity.

"All are safe and account for." Balmung assured softly.

Behind the knight, unseen and unheard, a sullen voice snapped out "what's that supposed to mean?" but Balmung didn't elaborate. A soft smile on Lios' part made the knight wonder if "unheard" was the proper word to use right then. Alas, the smile faded and the moment passed so Balmung didn't ask. Or rather, he couldn't ask. Not without being rude and knightly honor would not permit that. So he didn't ask or wonder or respond to the utterly anticipated "Oh dear… He can hear us, can't he?"

"I find it... intriguing that you, a merchant, are named after such a kingly creature as a lion." Balmung noted, merely striving to mask the innate chatter beyond him, hoping that it could be covered.

"It could be said." Lios' gruff voice sounded horse, from backing orders no doubt. "That he who judges a book by its cover is a fool. I could, if I was of mind, inquire further Mr. Satoshi. It's an odd young man whose tastes are so... universal… that he favors the literature of another country over his own. It smacks of a lack of... patriotism."

Despite his discipline and all his controls, Balmung let out a soft hiss at that criticism. It hung between them, a discordant breath drawn between clenched teeth.

"I would prefer to be addressed as Balmung."

Golden eyes glinted, founded features remained utterly placid.

"My job is to winnow man from legend, Mr. Balmung."

Behind and beyond one scoffed, another tittered. Balmung refused to flinch or blink. For his part, Lios did the latter, and then that professional distance detieriated as quick as it had been born. Leaning back in a chair part plastic, part fluff, the administrator pressed his own eyes into thoughtful slits. There was something of wonder, and something of hunting to the man's face. In that moment Balmung found all his answers as to why this man would take the name of a lion as his own.

"They don't know, do they?"

The silence at his back was deafening, to that Balmung swallowed. "Sir?"

"What you've done?"

"No sir. They..." The knight hesitated, closed his eyes, and sighed. "Neither my Mother or my Father have an interest in the World."

"You're a minor; they had to sign the paperwork for this meeting to happen. They have to be here for this meeting to happen. CC Corp honors child labor laws after all."

To that allusion he was lying Balmung would have bristled. He should have, but considering the ramifications... it stole the bite from his frustration. With a sigh, Balmung pushed his hair back, trying to set it to some order. He failed, in that and other things, still he tried.

"They're here sir. They don't have avatars since they don't play, but they are here. If you doubt my word..."

"I don't."

And to that simple assurance Balmung went still, oddly comforted.

"I don't doubt the word of one proven honorable time and time again. Do you think we haven't' set temptation before you and seen how you reacted? The Corporation's been watching you a long time. Since that little skiff you had with the knights, matter of fact."

"Not crimson, but white." Balmung noted. "After all, blood never washes clean, and fire only leaves ashes."

It was the closest he'd ever... well fought with Subaru before. Interesting how that had caught CC corp's attention. To his statement Lios chuckled, looked beyond Balmung, golden eyes riveted on whatever -or rather who- was beyond.

"You defied authority when it was corrupt. Proven patient and sharp, you've acted accordingly. That's why you were almost contacted a year ago. One sin cinched things however. Made us sure. You went into a hell based dungeon -a bit of insiders lore that, we mirrored floors off of Dante's divine comedy something I'm sure you've read- and unlike all the others you broke expectations and all the rules. You went with one person, you weren't armed to the teeth, items maxed out, ready for an endless crawl. You didn't rush headfirst into that trap either. Rather, you explored each and every nook and cranny above before going below."

"We never expected to get to the bottom. "Balmung admitted, offering a bit of "insider's lore" all his own. "Twice our combined level and then some. It shouldn't have been possible."

"To those with real courage, willing to take real risks, it was possible." Lios' grin widened. "And you proved that more than anything else."

"Proved what?" Balmung asked.

"That you have courage."

To that the white knight blinked.

"They don't approve, do they? You, being here. That's why they're there and you're here."

And, never even hearing the outraged babble to his back, only expecting it, Balmung nodded.

"So." Leaning forward, vein marred arms first crossing than one lifted to serve as resting place for his chin, Lios drew close. Idly Balmung let his gaze drop, so her studied grey green lines, and he wondered, insane as it might seem, which were which. Where did dead veins and tattoos intersect on that faded, coiled, marking. "Tell me, what of the man, what of the legend? Where do I separate the two of you?"

"Legends are made in other people's judgments, as are heroes and villains." Balmung pointed out. "I merely acted, acted according to what I perceived was right. They saw, and made stories, and crafted legends."

"So," Raising one thick eyebrow, the man who took his name from a celestial lion, sobered. "There is no difference then?"

Not knowing what to say to _that_ Balmung started, even as the young man behind the knight followed suit.

The silence of the man before the knight, and the people behind the boy playing as knight was deafening. And to that Lios smiled, a warm smile, one that said something of kindred spirits and brought back memories of a casual conversation made after Sin's fall.

"I..." Golden eyes speared the white knight, counseling silence.

"I applaud your dedication in adverse circumstance." The administrator murmured. "It's my hope that our efforts, and your assimilation into CC Corp's moderator team, will alleviate that somewhat."

"You mean the unlimited play time, no fee part of the contract." The knight blurted out, then flushed in chagrin. He hadn't meant to sound so cynical but... it had just tumbled out.

"That and other ways." Lios countered. Lip twitching into a half smile. "Balmung of the Azure Sky, Descendent of Fianna, will you accept the terms of service of the contract and accept that this verbal contract is binding as if you were in my office, before me? Will you accept the code of fair play that binds all administrators, moderators, and CEO's of this company, and know that you can not and will not be allowed to abuse the powers granted to you by acceptance? Do you swear, upon your honor and name, to act honorable, to _continue_ to act honorably, and uphold all obligations that are within your power to uphold and report those that are not to your superiors within the company?"

No hand was offered, not for him to shake, words seemed all that was needed for this moment. But words hardly seemed enough. And so, like flight and protection, flowing from that fountain of instinct deep in his soul, he stood then knelt. On bent knee he drew his sword, then turned it over in his hands, offering the hilt. Bemused, Lios took the offered weapon, rolled it's hilt in thick fingered hands.

"I don't know how to use this, wouldn't have a clue." Handing the sword back, rather clumsy truth be told, the Admin grinned. "But you do. Use it right, use it well, and that will be more than enough."

"Sir." Eyes studying the ground, head bowed, he took the blade without needing to see. The steady illumination from below crept up and stole the edges from his sight. Never mind though. Sight was not mandatory, he went by feel and memory, sheathing his blade without looking up.

Coming close, dissolving the table or perhaps stepping around it, Lios stood before the knight. Right before him, and to the pressure of that gaze Balmung looked up.

"You'll have those skies. That's my promise to you. In exchange to your promise to me. You'll have those skies, and all they hold, _all_ will be yours. You do your work, you'll keep them as long as you'll like."

"That might mean forever." Balmung warned.

"Nothing lasts forever, boy. Nothing at all. Not this, or me, or you. I'm your boss by the way, white knight. You'll be reporting to me ever other night at Mac Anu's bar. No drinking though, you even sip the stuff when on the clock I'll have your hide. We'll talk more of that, in more private forum. About school and scheduling, and your life style so we can fit this post around you so you don't lose too much to it."

Unable to help it, Balmung smiled, a child's smile, pure and carefree.

"I'm a hard task master; I'll demand a lot, not perfection though, so you can rest easy there. But I'll want damn near to perfection, is that clear?"

"As glass, sir."

"Lios." The administrator grumbled, waving the formality aside. "We'll be working too long together for you to be siring me to dead."

"Lios." Balmung corrected himself dutifully.

"Give us two days. No logging in though, we need to borrow your character data to make adjustments. But you'll get what you asked for."

"Just.. give me a little. To contact Orca so he knows I'll be out of touch, then it's all yours. I..." Still smiling, so wide it hurt, the knight wanted to dance, decorum held him back by the smallest of margins. he stood instead of pranced, despite how much he wanted to. "I.. thank you. For everything."

"You're welcome. Now write that Azure Sea fellow of yours and log out. That's an order."

Never had Satoshi been so glad to follow an order before. Nodding his head, logging to a root down, saving, then logging out. He did so with a wide, uncharacteristic smile, his joy shining through his other self, the White Knight. It took effort not to skip, extreme effort, loads of discipline. His letter was short, hastily written and barely coherent, still smiling he sent it, then set his vr headset aside.

His smile faded though when he turned, and found himself alone. T_hat's why you are here, and they are not..._ Lios' all too astute statement hung over him, taking the wild edge off of his happiness. But only the edge, the depths were still there, waiting for a choice indulgence. So, alone, he whooped with joy, jumped with it.

A child once again, never caring how wrong that sounded against the count of his years, he had no doubts, no fears. All was right with his world. And that's all that mattered.


	5. Wittling time

Sterile skies

Chapter 5

Untitled

_a/n: Chuckles. Well this story has got most of my attention. I'm starting to get urges to write for "Two modes of pay" however, so the updates might slow a bit in the next few days. Umm. I picked a random Japanese sounding name for Balmung's RL self... like his first name, the last is made up on whim, but if he has a "real" canon name let me know and I'll make changes as needed._

_As of 9/17/10: Edited!_

_Thanks for Reading,_

_Kasan Soulblade_

He had his favorite dream again. The one where the wind raced by and murmured words of encouragement and truth. As it passed it told and showed him its secrets. Smiling wide he chased after that wind, its chaos wordless whistling, and he leapt.

And he left the world behind. One jump, one knowing, and the sky was opened up to him. He had wings, he could fly! Joy filled him, and on wings he could never glimpse -no matter how hard he tried- he claimed the skies. Lost in alien sensations... he could feel, feel each joint, the play of muscle on tendon under such a fragile skin, the silken brush of feathers against his cheek with each down stroke... He soared.

And left the world far behind,

Skin tingling from his face on down to his toes, he opened his eyes and smiled. Even when the alarm began its insistent howling he held fast that dream, though its details eluded him and what little remained was quickly slipping away. Then and only when the alarm's cries scaled up a notch from "background noise" to "annoying" did he stir. Rolling out of bet he slapped the snooze button, all to get a quick reprieve.

In that sudden silence, with the cool rugged floors nipping at his feet, he tried to recall, reclaim. But the dream was mostly gone by then. Only the ghost of joy remained. Smile fading into a soft grin, then even that fled as the alarm under his hand blared to life. Clicking the off button, Satoshi glared blearily at the clock. Seven oh seven, never mind it was the weekend, everyone in his house had to be ready to go at eight sharp.

As for where, that depended on mother's whim and father's will.

"I need a place of my own." He mourned, turning to better face his reflection, letting the hand over the clock drop.

The boy with glazed eyes and rumpled p.j.s that were thrown over a slender yet solid frame only mouthed his words back at his originator. Such was the nature of reflections, he supposed.

"A place of my own, one I could... sleep in at... maybe?" He suggested.

Black hair hung over his eyes, not quite long enough to bite into his eyes, but almost there. The skew of his bed head matched the disheveled rumple of his striped bed clothes quite nicely he thought. White teeth flashing in a wide yawn, Satoshi gapped at himself for a while, then when his jaw willingly closed dared a stretch.

"Well, when you think of something, let me know."

Reaching under the squarish sheet of mirror, he found the closets handle. One tug later and the silent reflection slid away taking to the preset path of well-made runners without even a click of protest. Closet open, Satoshi stared at his wardrobe, considering the multitude of disembodied pants and shirts that hung before him

Deciding anything would do, so long as it wasn't white, he snatched the first thing on hand.

XXX

Breakfast lay before him, in a neat tidy precision that bordered on fussy. Toast here, jam there at its side, ever loyal. Then of course, the center piece was a bowl of unflavored oatmeal, and at the oatmeal's virtuous right hand stood the cinnamon. It took effort not to stare at that little shaker, its brand name wrapper was not even wrinkled despite its many uses, and the fact it sat on a tea cup saucer... It bordered between amusing and worrisome, but whatever the final tally he said nothing of it, just took his seat after noting.

Clearly mother was taking her new year's resolution to be more tidy a bit too far, but she was following through on it, so he bit his tongue, nodding his good mornings to all around. To that, Mother smiled, wished him a good morning, and took her seat. Across from him, already seated and face buried in the local paper, father didn't acknowledge his son. Perfectly fine with that Satoshi snatched up the nearest butter knife and scooped a blade flat's worth of raspberry jam. Concentrating on spreading jam just so, minding the crust and making sure it was thin enough it wouldn't turn the bread soggy, Satoshi busied his mind with the "just so" part.

It helped fill in the silences, just a little.

With a stiff rustle Father turned a page, Mother murmured for him to pass the cinnamon, and he obliged. Starting on his toast he nearly choked when Father set down the front page, material obviously unread. That was a first, the first in years in fact. Normally Father would read paper from cover to cover, than pass the segments of interest to his wide and toss out the rest. Reading done, he would have declared they were going to (insert a boring yet educational place here) and that would have been that.

Taking a cup of coffee in hand, father looked to son over breakfast for the first time in... years.

"You didn't check your computer this morning before coming down." Father noted blandly, then piece done he dropped his gaze and took a large slurp of coffee.

"My account's down." Satoshi explained after a quick swallow, trying not to feel bitterness. If father had listened, stayed, he'd have heard Lios explain that with his own ears... "It'll be down until Monday morning."

Slurp done Father set his cup down, brown eyes a mystery. Content to study his son from the corner of his eyes, Father stared something fascinating beyond them all.

"That's good, means we can spend a weekend together."

It took effort, hellish effort; still he dug and found the resolve not to flinch. No matter how much he really really wanted too. Flicking his brown eyes first to his wife, than his son, Sora Izaku squared his shoulders, set his chin, and made a rather amusing show of steeling himself.

"You've got responsibilities." Father began firmly. "I won't have you slacking and dragging the family name through the mud."

Checking the urge to snap something smart, Satoshi simply worked on his porridge while father rambled on and on. The subject, one as familiar as his own face. Duty, obligation, respecting one's employer, and quality work, topics so familiar he could have finished Father's sentences for him. Seriously, it wasn't as if he'd lived on the moon for the last eighteen years!

Temper up, blue eyes -his mother's so much like hers, save they weren't soft, rarely tender- glinting, Satoshi let vent to an exasperated noise. Then, seeing the heat creep up father's face and knowing well what it meant, the young man who was sometimes a boy, often a knight, set his food aside. Appetite gone, more than gone truth be told.

"I assure you father, Balmung of the Azure Sky is dedicated to his work and wouldn't shame the name of Fianna by turning lay about."

And, crazy as it may have made him sound, it was well worth the strange look he got from both Mother and Father to have a little piece and quiet.

XXX

_Orca:_

_Where too this weekend doom trip?_

Despite himself Balmung smiled. Trust Orca to find a way around the rules. If flashmail was down he'd text his fingers off to keep in touch with his bud. Jammed in the car, Father driving, Mother reading, the world rolled by. Headphones in, MP3 player going full blast, phone open and in text mode, he'd whittled the time here to there by getting small doses of "The World" all to better blot out the tension of the real.

_Re: Orca- Where too?_

_Balmung Azur_

_Being dragged to the museum of the evolution of literary arts..._

He waited, amused smile quirking his lip for the expected and utterly mysterious smiley. Last "Doom trip" had been a colon and a "p". The one before that had been a colon, a minus sign, and an "x". Hardly fluent in "leet", as his friend was, he'd ask what this week's smiley meant and be humored by the lengthy, technical, explanation on the inane.

Today however seemed to be a day of expectations.

_re:re: lit art._

_Orca:_

_Hey, when you get down there can you look up an Emma Wielant?_

_re:re:re: ?_

_Balmung azure:_

_I thought I was the literary inclined one. I am not doing your studying for you this time!_

_re: (to the fourth)_

_Orca:_

_It's not for school, it has something to do with the World._

To that there could be only one response, only one route available. With a quiet nod Balmung of the Azure Sky sent his affirmation via text. Closing his phone, resigning himself to staring out the window for the rest of the trip, he nearly bashed his head into the car's ceiling with his start of surprise when his phone shook and buzzed in his pant pocket. More than just a little surprised, the Azure sky flipped open his phone and laughed even as he read the message.

_Think I forgot?_

_Orca:_

M

..

=w=

To the sound of his laughter Mother turned about as much as the seat belt would allow. Blue eyes curious. Passing the phone -and grateful that Mother had yet to figure out what the "go back" button meant and that she wasn't one to experiment- before she could even ask she looked at the message then at him.

"A cat?" Mother queried.

Knowing Orca it could be anything, a cat, a rabbit, whatever. Still he nodded.

"Looks like it."


	6. Sorta flying part 1

Sterile skies

Chapter 6

Bereft of Instinct

Edited 9/28/10

"Even when I sit right next to him, side by side, at breakfast even, we're worlds apart." Heaving a sigh in the sanctuary of their bedroom Sora sat on the edge of their bed. He stiffened, and then sighed, as Yuki's hands settled over his shoulders. Fingers kneading and flexing, soothing tension that had set his back stiff, she smoothed the knots that had set his face rigid with pain. Hands relaxing tensed tendons and cramped muscles Yuki said nothing, simply labored.

"There's no ... talking to him. He just shells up."

"He's striving to keep his temper." Yuki pointed out, hands slowing.

"What for? I'm hardly denying him what he wants. I even agreed to this foolery. The sooner he sees how shallow and petty this all is..."

Yuki stopped, her hands, even her breathing, to that Sora stilled, startled at how loud his voice was in that absolute silence.

"You talk _at_ him, not _to_ him." Yuki corrected quietly.

Silence fell, smothered them both with its insubstantial wings, seeping its sticky feathers over every inch of air until breathing was a trial. Daring that choking atmosphere, Yuki whispered.

"Until you show respect for who he is and what he does... I find it little wonder he avoids you."

The muscles under her hands hopped, in surprise, indignation, she wasn't sure, for she didn't strive to see his face. Truth be told, she didn't want to. She was weary of the tensions and stifling silence that had filled her home every time her husband and son entered the same room.

"What do you think I should do?" He asked, his question came out tense, stiff, a perfect match for his posture.

"I don't know, what do you think you should do?" Yuki countered.

With a low growl Sora let himself fall back, and with a little shifting before he fell Yuki found herself with her husband's head in her lap, his dark eyes looking up, curiously younger in his confusion, once he lost his frustration that is.

"I still don't know what to do." He groused. "And you aren't helping."

"You'll think of something, I know you will."

"That's not much help." He almost, whined.

"I suppose not." Yuki conceded with a grin. "But don't you think it's more than fair?"

His silence, though a mite sullen, was all the confirmation she'd ever need.

XXX

"Let's see already!" All but bouncing up and down, more than betraying his youth, Orca itched to see though his eyes were working fine in his head.

So, smiling minimally to hold the illusion of some maturity, he obliged. One quick turn and accidental face buffet later and Orca had seen more than enough. Also, his view was on a closer scale than he'd wanted, but the accident was quickly forgotten after the giggling died down.

Clearly, the Azure Sea was very ticklish.

The things you learned, a wonder a day.

Balmung's smile widened, just a bit at that thought.

"They're like angel wings!" Orca marveled.

Checking the impulse to crane his neck and gawk at them (the ten minutes it had taken Orca to find this small out of the way field had given him more than enough opportunity to do so, so much so that his neck was a little sore) Balmung shrugged instead. The accompanying rustle as his wings followed suit was so new and unexpected he nearly hopped. Orca certainly did, and though trapped in the face of a middle aged warrior, the Azure Sea's eyes were very young. Unspeakably young even.

Wonder did that to some people.

"Wow, talk about detailed!" Orca gasped.

"Hmm?"

"The top." The blademaster explained. "It got all... poofy, then it smoothed out. Well, it's smoothing out now..."

"Really?" Forget previous gawking, Orca's description demanded a quick investigation. Craning his neck nearly getting whip-lash the white knight looked this way and that. Though awkward he could see his wings, and they did look a mite poofed. "How interesting...

As if determined to make a show if his interest they shivered slightly... no not shivered, they twitched.

"So, have you... you know?"

"Have I _what_?"

"Flown yet?"

"No. I um tried to... you know… _flapping_, but nothing happened."

Idly he stretched his hand back, an absent exercise he took up when nervous. His wing, all on its own, stretched forward. His hand shook with the small electric shock that took him upon contact. Once that discomfort faded however... They were soft, warm, and ever so faint he could feel the pulse under their skin.

They were living wings, truly living.

"Nothing?" Orca asked, snapping Balmung out of his distracted state. Tucking his wing behind his back, Balmung shook his tingling fingers.

"Well, they flapped, but that was it."

"Hm." Scratching at his chin, clear eyes going distant, the Azure Sea looked first to Balmung, then his friend's wings, then at last considered the field. It was a flat place, with brightly painted windmills perched atop distant hills. The grass while plenty was cropped short, grazed by invisible heard beasts (perhaps even the hated Grunty), the air was still, the clouds scarcely, and the sun was high.

"Hm... mmm hmm.." Nodding to himself, eyes closed as he contemplated whatever was on his mind, Orca's hand slid up till he was scritching the side of his face.

"Alright." Cutting in before Orca's hand got to the top of his head and started scratching there -a doggish habit that annoyed Balmung to no end- the Azure Sky glowered. "What?"

"Well," The hand went up, but Balmung's expression stopped the habit cold. "You aren't going to like it."

To that obvious fact Balmung sighed. "I figured that already."

"I mean you really _really _aren't going to like-"

"As long as it doesn't involve you tying me up like a kite and using a Grunty to be the kite runner I'll try it."

"Umm... Actually..." Dripping his gaze Orca studied the grass, resolutely not looking at his friend. "That's what I was thinking of."

"Well, that's not an option." Balmung growled.

"I figured."

"Really _really_ not an option." The knight rumbled, and forget that cliché about murder promised in the eyes his whole body promised a if Orca even tried.

"Not even with Rocker Grun-" The Azure Sea hedged.

"No!" Balmung nearly screamed.

Cracking a grin, eyes mischievous and so young -such a startling contrast in a body if not old that was at least mature- Orca chuckled.

"How 'bout with Milky Grunty."

He shuttered at the mere memory of the last Milky he'd seen. Those fawning eyes, wide sunny smile, and a crush a mile wide. She'd been obsessed with flirting with Orca, and she had a clock in her head that had been ticking down the time between her and Orca's last conversation. Clearly it had been _too long_ since Orca, her sweetie pie and sugar muffin, had talked to her. Her solution had been horrible straightforward. Harass Orcas' time consuming friend, after all Orca spent all his time with that "Azure Sky person" and what a better way to get Orca's attention than...

Needless to say it had started out ugly and had ended... well it had ended and he counted his blessings for that. Perched on Dun Loireag's weapon shop, eyes wild, he'd clung to the roof for dear life sending flash mail, PM, text message, even a forum post, all to get Orca to hurry up and log in to do something. Of course Orca had gotten in trouble, grounded that very night for playing too much. Irritated by all the mail Orca's mother had called him to inform him that further messages would not be appreciated.

"I think you can avoid calling him for three days." The woman had groused.

"But, I really need...'

"If you try again I'll have your number blocked, permanently."

"But, the Grunty!"

"Good _day_."

She'd hung up and he'd had no choice but to log out without saving. He'd lost a very good sword that way.

Taking a deep breathe so he wouldn't scream, the white knight settled for glaring instead,

"I. Don't. Like. Grunties." He hissed.

"Grunties aren't all that bad."

"Yours are." Balmung snapped. "I've got trauma just from yours. I don't want any of my own."

"Trauma or grunties?" Orca teased.

Knightly code, honor, or moderator status aside, Balmung smacked Orca upside the head for that one. It went beyond well deserved, was firmly in the land of justified. Lios would just have to understand. Ignoring Orca's "Oww geez, lighten up will you!" Balmung glowered at the Azure Sea.

"I don't like Grunties."

"I know already!"

"So, no plans with Grunties in them!"

"Gotcha!"

Unclenching his fists the Azure sky folded his arms over his chest, his wings followed suit Wings fully mantled (or fluffed, if Orca's terms must be used) Balmung studied the sky. He had the tools to reach it, he simply lacked the knowledge. No wise, informative wind would be on its way to give a tutorial, nor had CC Corp bothered to sent instructions, they... well he'd... have to figure this out on his own.

"Grunty flute... Grunty flu-"

Shaken out of his ruminations by Orca muttering to himself Balmung snapped his head up. Patting down pockets that were' there -a sure sign he was menu diving- Orca clearly was looking for the dreaded flute. That evil, ludicrous, item that summoned CC Corps satanically inclined "Cute fuzzy animal side kick".

"I said_ no Grunties_." Balmung hissed, sounding rather satanic himself.

Right." Holding his hands up, he mad a parody of modern surrender simply by looking so... medieval while doing so. "No grunties."

Both hands fisted, blue eyes glinting like ice harvested from winter's coldest day, Balmung grimly advanced. Not liking that.. ominous silence and unblinking stare Orca meekly took one step back. One quick glance (and a fairy orb later) confirmed there were no other players on the field. Not knowing if that was good or bad -but guessing bad, something about Balmung's posture promised it'd be very bad indeed- Orca took a few more steps back. Balmung matching him step for step, whole frame shaking with indignation.

"I." Head tilted to the side just so, lips curled into a soundless snarl, Balmung whispered the last. "Do not _LIKE GRUNTIES_!"

Wongs open and feathers frazzled with tensions so great they made static cling seem tame in comparison, the Azure Sky made claws (or perhaps talons would be the better word) of his hands.

Forget his status and the prestige as a Descendent of Fianna, there was maiming (or perhaps -hopefully- merely the mother of all noogies) promised in Balmung's gaze.

"Crap..."

Turning on his heel, running like he meant it, and cursing the fact he'd left his Ap Do endowed equipment at the Elf Haven, Orca ran for all he was worth. Balmung ran faster, well in the end he did. Acting on impulse he'd not quite ordered his wings to flap, rather he thought about it while running. At first it had caused him to leap straight up between steps, and Orca had gotten a lead from that. But eventually, he caught the trick of tossing the wind behind him. A few falls and skids later and he was keeping his feet, and catching up.

"Stop targeting me as an enemy!" Orca wailed. "I'm in battle mode, I can't gate out!"

The flap of wings, the crunch of steel crunching grass and kicking up sod drew nearer.

"I've got a test tomorrow that I've gotta study for!" Orca howled.

The sun was blotted out by blurs of white, than a heavy weight smashed into him. Both blademaster's flew forward at the force of Balmungs half flying tackle, all but eating grass, clothes now a perfect match for his bright green body paint, Orca moaned. Or rather, considering his position, he grazed. Snapping a hand out, pinning both of Orca's arms with one gauntleted fist, Balmung set his free hand to the top of Orca's skill.

A soft buzz and jingle courtesy of his fairy orb made Orca start. Spitting pebbles and grass blades the Azure Sea's panicked eyes mad Balmung stop his apocalyptic revenge noogie mid hair ruffle. Able to speak, he spoke of the ultimate terror, and it didn't consist of a Cerberus or Lich Lord.

"Players, party, three girls, Names: Yoai fan111, SkySea freak, Sue."

"Sue?" Balmung gasped. "_Mary_ sue!"

Orca nodded.

Out of those three only 'sue was moderately sane. As rabid as a Milky Grunty, her heart set on him, he'd had her blocked from email, flashmail, and IM to get a little peace. And still she stalked, despite all the means he'd used to shut her up and shut her out.

A confessed bird freak (The last post he'd ever read by her went something like "Birds were just so kawiiixDxDxD!") the second she saw his wings...

He shivered, not from cold, and decided that then and there it was time to take the better part of valor.

"Toodles." With a flap and a leap he broke off his target mode via lateral distance, dropped his party invite, and gated out.

Knowing Orca's computer was an older model and Balmung doing many things at once would cause it to lag, well what Balmung just did might constitute under cruel and unusual... Long enough for the girls (who always had speed tabs on hand that and fairy orbs) to find him? Probably, but Orca could always unplug if it came to that. The last thing he heard as the golden light whisked him away was a shrill "OMG it's him!"

Before Orca could respond, or the girls could glomp him, Balmung of the Azure Sky was long gone.


	7. Sorta flying part2

Sterile skies

chapter 7

Sorta Flying, part 2:

Run aground

Edited 9/30/10, spell checked and tweaked a few sentences throughout for clarities' sake. Only was able to gain access to the comp it was saved to on 10/8/10… go figure…

He ran, steel shoes sending leaves of natural and unnatural hue skyward with each step. Wings pumping madly, he ran then leapt into a breeze that was so subtle you could only hear it. As for feeling, letting touch be your guild, it was so delicate that even the fleeting caress of wind against skin was a flicker of imagination rather than the work of real sensation. Breaking past a series of mycoind encrusted swells, his almost flight, really impressive jump, ended like all the others. Unwilling to brace for a fall he smashed chest first into the moist ground and skidded several feet. Once the bizarre scree-squich of armor scrapping over leaves, lightly scratching the muddy earth under the loom had died down Orca stood.

"You OK?"

Face full of mud, white hair made colorful by all the leaves plastered to it, Balmung didn't answer. Didn't lift his head, and resolutely did not groan. Knowing he wouldn't get anything more than a grunt no matter how he pressed, Orca simply settled for waiting. Bracing himself on shaking arms, Balmung pushed up, spitting muck and the occasional pebble up until he could breathe again. Airway restored, he breathed hard and up, and set the one leaf perched on his nose spinning away. It fluttered, made it look so bloody easy that the Azure Sky glowered at the leaf as if fluttered off.

Still, Orca had asked, his concern was genuine. And, to that, as a knight...

"I'm fine." Balmung managed something like civility to his tone.

Impressed, that he was talking and being reasonable -there were after all well over ten vaguely shaped like Balmung leafless smears in this area alone, and this was the fifth area of five he'd tried flying at- Orca chuckled. Truth be told, had Orca met this much resistance over anything he'd have given up. Like water, the blademaster preferred the route of least resistance. Hence, why he'd taken the title of Azure Sea, though seas were deep and powerful water was water, and he'd always admired the gentler nascence of water's nature.

"I can Phal Repth you, if you need it." Orca offered.

"No. No damage has been inflicted to my HP so save your SP." Balmung winced, ever so slightly, than worked from laying on his stomach to sitting, the effort it took made the Azure Sea wince in sympathy pain.

"It won't change a thing statistically." Orca quoted recalling Lios' promise. "But you can't tell me it doesn't hurt."

"It hurts." Balmung hissed. Taking a deep breath Balmung ran a gauntleted hand over his breast plate. Leaf bits brightened the muck of mud under his fingers somewhat. Orca tried not to notice how Balmung's hand was shaking a bit. "I guess that's why nature makes birds so fragile so they can't fall more than once."

To that Orca said nothing, after all, what could he honestly say?

"How'd the test go?" Balmung croaked, sounding a bit winded.

"Meh." The Azure Sea shrugged. "So-so. I think I passed, I'll find out when I get the paper back. Math's the pits."

So's crashing, though he didn't say a word Balmung's expression didn't really need words or effort to read. But, despite whatever pain he was in, Balmung held his peace. Taking a deep breathe the Azure Sky stood, slowly, gingerly as if expecting to find broken bones and bruises under ever inch of his armor. Bracing his legs so the shaking stopped, and with only a hint of a sway to his step, the knight managed a few steps.

"Gunna try again?"

No words needed, Balmung nodded.

Sitting again, menu lingering on his heeling spells for a few moments, Orca ignored the whimpered "shroom" at his side. He waited for Balmung to bend, to say "My HP needs attention" or something stilted like that. Turning, without saying a word or accepting the mute offer of aide, Balmung looked to the sky. Listening.

For the sound of wind, waiting for that hint of air, a breathe of breeze.

"Shroom?"

Something small and moist poked his side, Orca didn't notice. He knew of water, it was fluid, ever moving, water was prone to stiffening in frigid circumstances and melting away when put under fire. Its very substance was change incarnate, yet for all it metamorphoses it was always a necessary. Always necessary.

Of water he knew, of the sky he was learning.

The sky... it held. Containment was its truth, it held clouds and wind, both fickle yet _needed_ things. When fire burned, smoke strived to claw its way to the highest spire, yet though it tried it never succeeded in staining the upper spires of heaven. With rumbles and electric born roars, rain fell through heavens hands, nurturing, smothering, with aqua fingers all that was below. Its brightest ornament, the sun was life incarnate. Though it went through stately paces -ever rising, falling, always at predictable times- it was the stuff of loyalty.

After all, the sun dial hardly waited on the moon, and it's ever changing phases.

With a nod Balmung snapped out of his "I'm listening" pose and opened his wings. Clearly the wind had turned, at least to Balmung's hearing, Orca couldn't make out a difference if his life depended on it. Standing, Orca made ready to pace after his friend, idly digging through menus till he found a healing spell.

Best to be prepared after all.

"Shroo! (music note)"

With a screech that sounded vaguely like "noo not me" Orca absently picked the mushroom. It was more for the sake of some quiet than to get food for a Grunty. Following the trail of kicked up leaves and fallen feathers, Orca considered his Phal Repth spell, then on impulse decided to offer a potion instead.

For when Balmung crashed, of course.

The sky held, translucent but hued (bitter grey at storms coming, softest blue at normal, darkest black during the night, and those unspeakable colors that came at lights fall and days start) it touched the earth only when it must. Only at the horizon. Part of infinity, the gateway to the immeasurable things, like the circumference of an amorphous galaxy, it defied yet demanded definition.

"Hm.." Scratching his head, wincing a little at the familiar scree squish that signaled another failure, Orca wondered. Then asked (after all, the sky wasn't the only hued but translucent thing about) the downed knight. "Random thought, but you've got any Earth Element stuff on you?"

"My boots." Balmung croaked, after spitting mud and leaves for a while. "Why?"

"Call it a hunch, but take 'em off next time and we'll see what happens."

"Alright." Clearly perplexed Balmung worked his way to sitting. Slow but sure, with only a ghost of a shake to each motion.

Enough, Orca decided then and there, was enough. "Potion?" The Azure Sea offered brightly.

"My HP hasn't been-"

"I said _potion_?" Leaning closer, potion in one hand, the other a five finger sandwich with Balmung's name all over it, Orca waited. Made patient by the fact his best friend's eyes were a touch glazed and he was obviously spent Orca smiled.

"Hnn." Smiling despite the grime, the Azure Sea read through the offer, caught sight of the "sandwich" in the other hand, and having a firm grasp of the obvious, he laughed. "Why not?"

XXX

"It tastes awful Orca!" Than a moment later, more than a mite indignant. "I am _not_ being an immature brat!"

having pulled her son's door open a crack Yuki meticulously cleaned some random nick-a-nack nearby. Shamelessly listening in, she'd been drawn by the soft grunts of pain he'd uttered. She'd almost entered and turned off the computer, never mind the fit of temper doing that would have caused. But something held her back, some niggling instinct.

So she'd waited, and cleaned, and listened, curiosity satiated in bits and pieces.

Her final and full answer came when he'd uttered a surprisingly poetic turn of phrase, and she lingered over it in her head for quite a while after.

"I guess that's why nature made birds so fragile..."

So, he was learning to fly with those new wings of his. He was learning of flight, and falling, both were valuable lessons in and of themselves. So she got to work, working hard at nothing at all, and absently wished some of his elegance would rub off on his essays. Or outside that World of his, it might be nice too...

"Yuki, I'm home!"

A door slammed shut and one room away with a partially open door to allow her a hearing egress she heard him breathe one word that would have guaranteed instant grounding had he dared say it in public. But it wasn't public, it was private, so she couldn't do a thing.

"I will have to try your suggestion tomorrow Orca."

Quietly she crept to the door, turning the handle, she moved to ease it closed. She found it curious that they never promised to meet up, or even discussed a where, or a how, they'd get together next. No "let's meet up at the usual" or even a mundane "call me".

It was merely a given, them seeing each other again. A fact so honest it didn't bare repeating.

"Father's home." The last came out so bitter she started, loosening her grip on the nob. It clicked as her hand went slack, and to that soft sound her son hissed. "Something's happening, I've got to go."

Taking one step, then another, she slipped back and away.

From below, obviously concerned, her husband hollered her name. "Yuki?"

Checking a sigh, Yuki spared a glance at her son's door. He knew now, what he suspected more than confirmed when he opened the door. He'd know she'd been about, that was a given.

No point in even hiding now, or even trying.

"I'm upstairs dear." Yuki called. "I'm coming right on down."


	8. First Night's Work

Sterile skys

chapter 8

First night's work

_Author's note: The whole of the chapter is based loosely on the email you get from Balmung in Quarantine, about his girl issues... Also inspired by the see-saw lyric "We can only take each other's hand, not to fall victim to the freezing night" from the song Kimi Ga Ita Monogatari_

_Edited on 10/8/10._

Nose in book, eyes pointedly focusing on anything but _her_ Satoshi checked a sigh. He hadn't wanted to seem mean, but no was no after all. And all the good intents in the world could not revoke a negative. She sniffled, and to that he looked up. With tears in her eyes, her lower lip trembling, she stood before him, all but shaking as the full force of his refusal hit home.

Idly, he thought her unspeakably fragile, delicate, but not beautiful then. As she wavered between those violate violent impulses that an emotional explosion always was prelude too he was faintly irritated. He'd told her time and time again, he wasn't interested, yet here she was acting like...

"Wh.. why not?"

"Because I'm not going to the dance." To her suffering he set his text aside. "I've got work."

"But after..." Her voice rose with hope, a false hope, one he would not allow.

Still, a part of him almost wished it was otherwise. That he could feel otherwise. He shook his head, met her gaze, refusing to be a coward.

About them, beyond them but surely listening, was a flux and tide of students. The cafeteria was half full, slowly filling as first lunch bled into second lunch and the peoples getting their food and tarrying to avoid classes mixed and mingled.

And listened in to something that should have been private, and this _would_ have been private had she taken his hint and they'd stepped outside.

"I've got graveyard shift. I won't be done until after midnight, it would be too late to do anything then." His returning aggravation added a bite to his tone he'd have paid handsomely to have left out.

Especially when he saw the wetness gathering about her eyes.

"Can't you ask for the day off?" Her voice rose, shook, hitting and sticking at that shrill irritating note that precluded a screaming fit.

Shaking his head, hoping that if he held to silence he'd stall off her anger, Satoshi stuffed his hands into his pockets, all to better hide how they were clenching.

"This job's more important than me, than us?"

"We're friends..." He began, striving to soften his voice, striving for control. It was deliberate counter to what he knew was coming, a desperate attempt to muffle... "That's all."

"You promised!" Efforts aside, she'd hit full volume and was screaming at the top of her lungs.

Considering her... umm.. Endowments it was suffice to say she had very well developed lungs.

"No." Hands hurting from their fists, he gathered his courage and held it tight. "As a matter of fact I didn't promise. I said if I was available to go we could go _as friends_. I'm not available, I can't become available, and I'm giving you a week and a half to find someone who _is_."

To his logic, scrutiny, and placid seeming mix of compassion and indifference, something in her broke. Snatching the small carton of milk off of his plate that was to be his drink she threw it in his face. Too startled to even think of blocking he took the hit, then with her shaking in front of him like a storm made human incarnate he flicked off dribbles of white off his face. When he'd found a splatter too large to be brushed away (bits of it sliding down his neck besides) he turned from her, snatching up a napkin and began to scrub the stuff off.

"You arrogant, pig headed, insensitive, bastard, that's what you are!"

Refusing to give her what she wanted, a scene, he grunted. Choking down the urge to give her as good as she'd given him. With a screech she stormed off, throwing her hands in the air, screaming profanities so rushed they sounded like snippets of vindictive arcana. With a low growl he clenched his hands, crumpled the napkin and swallowed something hard, something bitter, and jagged. When in more control over himself he let the napkin fall, stood, and went to get another one.

When it hit the table, after his careless toss, the edges were torn, the tears frayed. His grip had been so tight he'd been rending what he held and had never even noticed.

XXX

"There's some inverse cosmic law in effect in my life." Balmung groused, shaking powdered ice and bits of snow from himself as he stood.

"Really?" Sword out and glowing a familiar red, Orca waved it about, standing protectively over his downed friend. The monster that was contemplating a late dinner of winged player had second thoughts. Though it had no eyes to swerve about to look for routes to run away on, it swerved its blockish frame first left than right, dithering. With a low whine the deadly present and its one HP skittered away, yowling like a beat dog. Closing his menu, level one fire scroll disappearing in a puff of smoke, the Azure Sea chuckled.

"And that's that."

Still running, ribboned bells that adorned its top all a jingle, the box ran off on spider legs it's yelps quickly fading due to distance

"You know, the last time you said that." Raking a hand through his hair, setting bits of ice to falling the Azure sky winced as they fell against the base of his neck, luckily his armor kept them from sliding down and getting caught halfway down his back. "You took exactly three steps doing some would be victory dance and triggered the gate for One S-"

"Hey!"

"I'm just saying..." Balmung grinned, shaking off his melancholy somewhat.

With a hiss and spit that made him jump the whole world went... grey, just for a second. It was like an oldster's television that had bunny ears, and someone had nudged the antenna a hair too far to the right. Frantically looking left and right, as the white noise rose in pitch, he stood alone, no snow, no ground, nothing but flecks of grey on white. Then, one blink, one earful of static later and with a ringing headache settling into the front of his skull besides, and everything was back to normal. Orca was back where he belonged. Heaven and earth were where they were meant to be, and the cold rushed back in, a welcome sensation when compared to the... the nothing he'd endured for those few yet too many moments.

_Thank god._

"Man oh man, what in _Hell_ was that!" Rubbing his head as Balmung wished he could, Orca looked around, staggered a few steps.

Three to be exact.

Form the edge of sight, above and beyond them both, a band of gold snapped, sending precious sparkles in the sky.

"Wonderful." Balmung grumbled, drawing his blade and turning to face the red "enemy" tag his fairy orb was letting him see.

"What?" Orca whimpered, nursing his head.

"We've got company."

"Well that's peachy." The Azure Sea sighed, lifting his blade, that familiar glow back again.

"Peachy?" Balmung managed not to laugh, God knew it took effort not too, and his voice hitched ever so slightly from the strain of it all.

"What?"

"Never mind."

With a series of crunches to allude that whatever comith was well... massive, Azure Sea and Azure Sky pivoted to where the red tag pointed. Nothing was there, save a block of clear blue ice and a fantastically colored (though considering they were long extinct it could have been accurate, grey with flecks of black and white just didn't seem.. well _right_ in Balmung's mind.. but still there was room for interpretation) tyrannosaurus trapped within. "Much cooler than that Mammoth, last water field, isn't it Balmung?" Orca had teased. To the pun more than anything else Balmung had dropped his dignity for as long as it took to make a snowball and throw it. A quick snowball fight had ensued, only stopped when they'd been interrupted by the approach of a lone Deadly Present.

And, well that little skiff was the stuff of the past. The snow crunching, invisible whatever it was was the stuff of the present, or rather encroaching future. Spying a smear of purple (purple?) behind the ice the Azure sky sighed. Whatever it was would come when it was ready, no point in waiting in battle pose, it would encourage the fan artists. Sheathing his blade, content just to watch and wait for whatever was ambling near, Balmung sighed.

"Alright, what's up?"

"Noth-"

Leveling a glare, the Azure Sea didn't have to say anything, and Balmung didn't have to turn to get the message in Orca's eyes. One of the quirks of being best friends, he supposed. Limited telepathy.

"I've got girls throwing themselves at me here. Platoons of them." Balmung sighed, thinking of other events a world away. "Yet the one's out of the World, they call me... well called me a... and umm... I just can't seem to win."

"Balmung." Looking back ignoring the monster for the moment, the red light of Orca's sword dimmed as Orca met his friend's baffled gaze. "You've got _fan girls _and _fan boys _here."

"What's the difference?"

The crunch of snow being smashed was delegated to mere background noise for them both, never mind the volume was increasing as the noise's originator closed in.

"Seriously?" Orca sputtered. "You don't know?"

"What?" Balmung snapped, starting to get more than a little annoyed by the patronizing note to his partner's voice.

"No wonder you've got girl problems out there." Orca muttered.

Only catching something about "problems" Balmung scowled, forgetting the monster completely.

"Now I'm curious, what did you say?"

Before Orca could explain (or try to avoid answering, the expression on his face saying clearly he was going to at least put up some effort in that direction) there was a deep toned rumble reminiscent of a gong being struck. Both blade master's started, and turned to stare at the purple, hulking, turtle before them. A Gaia Turtle, their experience and fairy orbs told them, just a second too late. Above the still beast's head, wreathed and birthed in coils of black smoke, dripping dark muck as if it had been salvaged from some unspeakable quagmire, was a statue. Cast in concrete, not quite a woman, yet too old to be considered little, was a girl. Her no color eyes were wide, her mouth parted in a mute cry, she stared at them from her cruel impalement. Starting from her back and thrusting through her heart, the tip of the spear that ran her through was mercifully hidden by her prayerfully clasped hands. She stared at them, stone eyes terrorized, weeping black tears.

Then, form her soundlessly screaming mouth, bats spilled out in a swarm, their black wings and shrill cries stealing light and sound.

XXX

"It's… the first time in... well _years_ since I've "Game Over"ed and it was odd besides."

Hands clasped around the mug of something (he hadn't read the menu, only pointed to something to make the servile NPC go away), eyes distant, he looked through Lios rather than at him. Wings folded tight, he held in a shiver... and a yawn. A testament to the hour, one oh eight am at last check. Mac Anu's tavern was all but empty, only NPC's and the Admin and newbie Moderator staking the place out as their own. Tilting his head, he listened to a few bar of Dessert Night play on and on, and wished for a moment he'd chosen something more lively. Something more prone to keeping him awake.

It was late, and he was feeling it.

"Odd how?" Lios asked sounding too damned awake for the one whatever it was.

"First, I was in a party, though the summoned attack hit us both graphically only I took damage. Despite Orca being in my party I was forced to log out as if we weren't together."

"That is odd." Lios conceded.

"Despite the very high quality of armor I was wearing I took 9999 damage," Balmung continued. "And I'm not quite sure of this... you might want to check if you can... but I think I lost X.P after logging in."

"You aren't sure?" A bushy eyebrow rose.

"No. I stopped paying attention to X.P. after level number two."

A wry chuckle and smile served as Lios' reply.

"It wasn't umm.. indigenous to the area, that Gaia Turtle. Not in a water area, not in a snow bound field running amok with Deadly Presents."

"It might have been randomized. It does happen you know." Lios countered.

"One with magical tolerance, level one hundred and twenty, with dark spells despite scanning under a fairy orb as being earth element?" Balmung snapped.

"Fair enough." Lios slurped tea that wasn't.

Sliding the untouched mug of... whatever, from hand to hand, studying the grain of the wooden table, Balmung said nothing. A soft click at slurps conclusion told him Lios was done. Still, he didn't look up, wondering about that span.

That span where nothing had happened, nothing had been. Comforting himself that it was just a glitch, nothing more than a randomized system fail, Balmung sighed. Orca had thought it was the same, and was nothing to worry about, a little startling but... Hed' trust his partner on this one, like always.

"Anything else?" Lios barked.

"I logged back in." Balmung reported. "Came to Mac Anu, and reported to you right away."

And, to that, Lios smiled, losing some of the hardness to his gaze.

"Orca got anything to report?"

"No, I think his Mother caught him playing after bed again. I got a really garbled text message from him that looked like someone was trying to say something before the phone was wrenched out of their hands."

Another chuckle, the crinkle lines about Lios' eyes multiplies as he smiled, knowingly. "That happen a lot?"

Rolling his eyes Balmung let out a chuckle all his own. "You would not _believe_."

Chuckle became laugh and despite the raspy and worn edge to his voice, the man named after a lion laughed well enough.

"Have a sip, tell me how it tastes then we'll go over it again from the top. Step by step, I'll need to know what portal you triggered so we can find it and shut it down."

"What do you think caused it?"

"Probably a hacker got his hands on some monster data and tweaked the level and settings a bit." Lios sighed. "It happens sometimes." Then, drumming up a scowl Lios glowered at his underling. "Didn't I give you an order?"

Smiling wide, Balmung nodded, ever a mute "yes sir" if there was one, before taking a draw of the... whatever… it was. It tasted good, was sweet yet not too much so. He savored it for a while, and Lios let him loiter a bit over texture and tastes before clearing his throat. To that prompt the Azure Sky swallowed, nodded, and got back to work.


	9. Of Morgona part 1: Surely

Sterile sky

Chapter 9

"Morgona Mod Gone" Part one

Edited 11/2/10.

A/n: Got back from voting, and from handling one duty felt obligated to tackle another. Thought I forgot this story didn't you?

"Programmer's curse my rear." Orca grumbled. "Everyone on forums and World itself knows M-78's nothing more than a liar."

To that Balmung smiled. Despite being immersed in a game where dragons ignited the skies with a single breathe, and harpies flocked like migrating birds, where such known impossibilities lurked around each corner Orca had the gall to scuffle at a curse. Furthermore, Orca had seen the impossibilities anmd wonders the World had to offer, it wasn't hearsay as it would be to say… a level one noob wandering around a level one field. Yet, despite what he'd seen and done Orca scoffed at the idea of a curse. Never mind that they broke curses all the time on their own. They… made a living as it were... shattering the thin lines that bound monsters, severing the ties that separated nightmare from earth by simply letting their shade touch the binding lines of gold of a portal. And, once the sparks died, and the binding light was little more than a memory there came plagues of devils, undead, deranged monstrosities, screaming horseman of disaster and death churned the soil of the darkest places.

Not to mention your odd assortment of possessed trees, oversized worms, and insane, disgruntled presents.

Such was the World they lived in.

For even Christmas turned sadistic and cruel on the right field and keyword combinations. Recalling Orca's face at his first taste of physical immunity at the hands of a ribbon-ed, gaudy, box with ambitions for PKing Balmung cracked a grin.

"Where you hear the clicking of a keyboard, and a scream." The Azure Sky bantered.

"Please." Orca groaned. "Not you too!"

"Scared of ghosts?"

A chuckle and grin on Orca's part helped the blade master reclaim the good humor he'd lost. "I don't believe in ghosts, and I'm not scared of what doesn't exist."

Wings unfurled, gently flapping, Balmung wished for cooler surroundings. Standing atop a swell of cooling mama, threads of red spilling about their island refuge the Azure Sky knew he wished in vain. Still it was an idle hope, no harm done.

"Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it's not there Orca." Balmung half scolded.

Silence, then after fanning his face a few moments the Azure Sky turned to the Azure Sea.

"I'm gunna get some water. Hold the fort?"

To that more than reasonable request Orca nodded.

"When you get back, I get a turn." Orca called, pitching his voice so it carried though Balmung was still as stone and well... right there. Since first getting them, the Azure Sky's wings went still, and Orca took that as a sign that thought the avatar was present no one was home. Wishing he could sit (he wasn't going to trust his rear to the ash black rock no matter how much was offered) he sighed instead and flapped a hand in front of his face. In Real and World, he sweated slow cooking by magma born streamlets that stripped the black cracked ground like blood over charred flesh. In the distance (but not distant enough for any level of comfort, the very ground seemed to breathe under his feet for it) pillars of flame and rains of molten stone roared and splattered.

Good thing the paint on his face wasn't real, or maybe the sweat wasn't real (though that felt real enough, way too real for a game), regardless of what was true in this land of artifice he was just glad physics wasn't up to one hundred percent. Else he'd be called Zebra of the Azure Sea.

Or worse yet, Strippy.

Yes, faced with the mere thought of baby talk Orca descendent of Fianna simply counted his blessings and each second that separated him from a nice cool glass of water. Water, with ice, with beads of even more water dripping slow-mo style down its sides. A big, huge, glass straight from the fridge with cubes aged in the freezer enough to have just a touch of freezer burn to give them a little bite as he ate each one.

Heck, he'd stick his head in the freezer for a whole minute right then. It would feel good, really good, no scratch good, it would have been awesome.

With a wing twitch and blink to announce "I'm back" Balmung came back to life with a wince.

Unable to resist himself, Orca opened his mouth.

"Quite a shock, from after sticking your head in the freezer isn't it?"

Wings ruffled to the point they looked poofy, from top to bottom no less, Balmung turned to stare at his friend, almost moving slow-mo himself.

"_Excuse_ me?"

"The freezer, your head..." Blue eyes wide in incredulous surprise, wings almost fluffy, the Azure Sky's shock more than killed the joke. And, really, considering his intents for himself it wasn't much of a joke. "Never mind."

With an audible snap Balmung flared his wings, chased out all the fluff to them, then folded them over his back with care.

"Get some water Orca, you sound like you need it."

"Alright…"

Pulling off his headset Orca plucked off first his FDM goggles than plucked out his ear buds one at a time. With the last bud pinched between two fingers, and being pulled away he wasn't sure… The World's sights were set aside after all, its sound all but fading, nearly gone…

Softer than a whisper, maybe imagined, he could have sword that Balmung grumbled something about the fridge not being cold enough. Stuffing his hand into his mouth least he laugh, the boy called Orca sniggered and snorted instead. And he did his best not to laugh.

Not that he was successful, but it wouldn't due to hurt Balmung's feelings, not at all.

XXX

They raced across the field, nearly flying, Balmung having learned something of flight, yet not all of its elusive secrets, was managing a sort of glide hopping and leaving little to wonder –if there were any about- how they'd earned the title "Hero's of Zeit" Master Supreme lagged behind Hyper Falcon for a while, and watching Balmung and his new mode of near flight Orca felt a stab of concern. He'd held the rank of "Master" for almost a half year but seeing how fast those wings were making his partner… His rank was definitely in danger.

Oh well, win some, lose some, that's the way World and world worked, wasn't it?

Still despite his surge of philosophical thought under the cliché he wondered at ways to get a hold of Balmung's "speed tab" supply. Nipping his lip, part to keep a string of yelped "hot-hot"'s in as they raced mere inches along a red and bubbling vein, and part to keep half formed plans from tumbling out, the Azure Sea squinted at the black smears ahead. Be they the field's dungeon, the hilt of a colossal blade lying amongst its molten fragments, he couldn't tell.

Suddenly, lip nipping turned into a wide grin as inspiration struck.

"Speed tab?" We could go twice as fast and …"

He didn't even need to say more. With a half grumbled "why didn't I think of that" Balmung threw out two Ap Do's (two down, who knew how many to go) and they were on their way. Then, there was no "nearly" to it, they were flying, the type that didn't need wings to make it work out alright. They raced along a red and black world, going so fast the heat couldn't' catch them, and the golden gates that housed monsters and worse were by passed so fast they seemed like fireworks.

XXX

_Under the frenzy of hooves, brought low by despair,_

_Such things born of false promise, morbid truths uncensored_

_We wondered of time, how much remains before it all passes_

_We grieved time's loss, oh what should have been!_

He shivered, despite his best efforts not too. Sipping water, meal untouched, he let mother and father's talk flow about him. As for himself, he had nothing to say, no comment to add, so he held to silence. Silence, and sipping, trying not to feel half broiled by his "pretend" forays on a molten wasteland.

"So, how's work going?" Mother asked, to that father blinked, after all he'd talked of his day and then some. But Mother did not look upon her husband; her attention was fixed to her son.

"Hot." Satoshi noted. "Dusty." He added after a moment's thought.

"If you actually dusted your room once in a while-" Father cut in.

"Mm…" To that attempt to aggravate Satoshi made a distracted noise, took another drink, not really hearing a word.

Or rather, he was hearing other words, far too clearly.

"Dear, is something the matter?" Mother asked, concern obvious. To that Satoshi woke up a little.

"Just, well, we found something a little while ago and Lios has me on standby, and I was thinking about that."

Both Mother and Father looked at their son, confusion obvious.

"Did you even read my contract, not the pay schedule, but the "duties and obligations" part?" Though he hadn't meant it… his tone was more than a little snide. Shelving a sigh, and more exasperated chatter, he took a deep breath instead. Then, since the silence still lingered, he took another drink. The water was still water.

For an idle moment he wished it was… well whatever he'd had in Mac Anu. Making a note to ask Lios if he'd recalled what Balmung had accidently ordered that night, Satoshi finished his drink to near perfect silence.

"They shut the field down, locked it up with me and Orca still inside. The second Lios texts me I've got to log on and start a field comb, that'll take at least four hours.

"At least!" Father snapped.

"Four hours." Mother chimed in, in complete agreement with her spouse. ""You've been on two and a half already!"

"It's an emergency." Satoshi explained. "And it's Friday, I'll just sleep in tomorrow."

A buzz from his pocket made him start. Squirming enough so he could get to his phone Satoshi flipped it open. He didn't even try to hide the grin that touched his lips as he read Lios's laconic note, that and the post script.

"Work?" Sora grated, glowering.

"Yeah," With a click the phone folded shut. "I've got to go."

"Have fun _playing_." Sora grumbled, spearing a piece of dinner so fiercely the fork went through, scrapping the plate underneath.

"I'm working." Satoshi protested. "A Field comb is not on my list of things I want to do."

"You certainly skip off to do it fast enough." Father snapped.

Opening his mouth, then snapping it shut for there was no need to articulate exactly what he was thinking, its tenor all but oozed off him in waves_, _Satoshi stiffened. Glaring at his father like he'd have glowered at a PKer caught in the act Satoshi decided that this time he'd say it. Civility be damned, it was deserved. He stood all but shaking with indignation, face twisted into a glower so fierce Orca would have backed up for seeing it.

But Orca wasn't here, only Father.

"When have you ever cared about anything, old man? For anything I've ever done anything you've ever done? When have you ever bothered to feel anything like passion, like caring, you shade everything you say in tones of irritation and disgust for so long it makes me sick."

Mother went white, father's jaw unhinged. Taking advantage of that moment Satoshi stormed out of the room. Least more venom pour out, venom so vicious yet true that honor would forbade him from taking back what he said.

"You get back here!" Shaking off his paralysis, Sora fought to stand. As it was he was talking to his son's stiff back. And his son's back was like talking to a wall, save the wall was stationary and Satoshi was well on his way to full retreat. "Fine, go back to your damned job then, see if I care! But you remember something Satoshi. The second you take those damned VR glasses off you have to deal with me. I'll pull you off that damned contract with CC Corp so fast you'll think you're in a time warp!"

Satoshi took the stairs two at a time. At the steps base Sora stopped, snarled.

"Are you listening to me Satoshi?"

Near the top, so close to sanctuary, he stopped.

"Is any of this getting through to you?"

He wished for wings then, hardly idle that wish, it was fervent. Thick wings, wings he could fold about him to muffle all this out, with plenty of feathers so he could better stuff his ears. Was he hearing? Yes, God yes. How he wished he could not, with all his heart. And how he wished he could turn, turn and snarl "When have you ever listened to me? Why should I listen to you, Father?" hung between such bitter words, such dark impulses, and the overriding urge, to fly. Just to be _gone_. He shivered sanctuary so close he shivered.

"You pull that contract and I swear I'll move out."

It was father's turn to be shook, to fall silent, and listen.

For the first time in years.

"I've got a credit card, and a debit card in my name. You aren't co-signed on either one and I've got access to funds _you can't shut down_. You threaten my contract and I'm gone, and I won't come back. Ever."

Incredulous, father shuddered, spat with fizzling frustration. "You wouldn't know the cost of one month's rent much less-"

"Standard lease agreement for an apartment is three times a months' rent. As for how much that is," Satoshi shrugged, "I know five apartment's costs, five close enough to school that I could keep going till graduation at least. As for after, well that's after."

One breath, two, then half choked, Father found his voice.

"We need to talk. Things have gone this far between us, than we need to talk."

Eyes closed as fervent became desperate, Satoshi shivered.

"After?"

"Fine." The disgusted 'whatever' hung unspoken but not unsaid.

"If it takes longer, until after you turned in, you want me to wake you up?"

After all, it was a knight's duty to be courteous, no matter the circumstance.

"If I'm sleeping, we'll pick it up in the morning." A harsh sound that might have been laughter if only it had tried. "'Less you're going to pack up and be gone if I'm not around."

To that, the utter lack of apology, he tendered none of his own. Though he had hoped, hoped that Father would… But with hopes death rotting in his mouth he ascended, to that and awkward silence to his back. Not looking back to see if Father loitered, or if he moved on, Satoshi neared the door and was beyond it before he knew what happened. Then, it was closed, locked and he was leaning against it for a while. Bracing it against an onslaught that wouldn't come. Only when the shaking subsided did he fish his phone out of his pocket. With burning eyes Satoshi opened it up and re-read the last text.

No smile this time, but considering, that wasn't unreasonable in the slightest.

"Meet back dungeon, 15 min. Lios. PS try not to cause a scene just to get away."

Torn between laughter and tears, he shook. How damned ironic he'd know, a virtual stranger met in virtual reality, their acquaintanceship forged in a world that was not, it made him sick at how astute Lios was. How the man knew without even knowing Satoshi for reals how things stood… That revelation alone was tinged with shades of shock and wonder, and under it all a bittersweet appreciation that was too complicated to properly analyze. He shook for a while braced and quaked, until he could actually think just a little. Another glance at the message's send time verses the present and he nearly sobbed.

Eleven minutes before log in.

Too long, surely he'd break.

Too short, he'd never pull himself together.

The thoughts chased him around like twin devils. Complete opposites yet perfectly paired. The door knob dug into his back, so she shifted a bit so it nipped at his side. No one was coming; he'd been left alone after all. Nothing would happen until after, after all.

God help him for hating them all for that. For Lios and his knowing. For Father and his "latters" and passive acceptance and idiotic attacks born of stubborn ignorance. For Mother, for doing nothing save watch. And for Orca, in that moment he hated his best friend for his dammed and damning innocent view that stemmed from the fact they were friends "only online".

But all that paled before what came next. That bitter hate at himself. For never doing anything right, never being anything right. In that moment when he'd hated the mall, and he realized it, he hated himself ten times more than any of them combined. He hated himself for being able to feel such hate, and though it was only in his head, he hated himself for wanting to direct all his anger at them. Queasy and frustrated, worn and weary, he approached the computer terminal.

Four hours, minimal, stood before him. Four hours of hard work that was appreciated in one distant place and not even comprehended where it mattered most.

If he had wings surely they'd drag behind him.

Surely.


	10. Of Morgona part 2: Deeper In

Sterile skies

_Author's Note: Does anyone know how to make the music note symbol appear on a fanfic's site? I'm presently using Micro Word 10 (I wasn't able to get permission for that download x4th, but if the opportunity comes around I will make a try for it on the public computer) and that info would have helped immensely on this chapter. If someone can give me that info I'll edit it in and use it later (I'll probably have need) anyway, when you get to the BearCatEgg section just imagine a music note following each BearCatEgg cry. My suggestion makes more sense when you get there._

_Pleasant reading_

_Kasan Soulblade_

_Edited on 11/2/10_

Chapter ten

"_The trials and trails of despair and hope_

_Both are the same, in step and cadence_

_Both end when the coin of faith is spent."_

Lips pressed into a thing line, expression studios, Azure Sea paced behind Azure Sky. Not wanting to bother Orca when he was so obviously distracted by _something_ Balmung burned through a pair of Heal Charms and Soul Charms to buy some time. And, though his vision was undoubtedly rimmed with alternating bursts of green and blue as the spells took effect Orca did not complain, or thank, or do anything. He was so still and unblinking that the winged knight gingerly approached, daring a quick shake.

That got a response, a hop and a yelp.

"Falling asleep on me?" Balmung teased.

To that Orca cracked a sheepish grin, shook his head.

"What's up then?"

Still grinning Orca flicked two fingers and Balmung raised an eyebrow.

"Two things hmm? Seriously Orca, it's a little late for charades…"

Stepping right along Orca proudly presented finger number one, reason one, all in one go. Pressing both hands together in a lumpish plain, he presented the mashed hands to his friend. Then, as if his pinky had become a hinge he "opened" the offering as if one would open a book. Mutely reading the air above his fingers Orca then offered the reading to Balmung. Seeing nothing save the air above Orca's calloused palms, the Azure Sky raised an eyebrow.

"_That's_ my hint?"

A nod on Orca's part and a grin said that indeed it was.

"Something about reading, what you gave me to read?"

Another nod and grin grew to smile. Orca took such bizarre delight in these games. All they ever did was give Balmung a headache at the best of times and a migraine at the worst. Considering his day thus far… He wished for Tylenol amongst other things. Shifting from one foot to another, the Azure Sky recalled emails, flash mails, and a few stupid jokes, and nothing else.

"You got me, I give."

Smile widening, Orca flashed his friend a smug smile. He loved to win, loved to show his love of winning, alas that did not mean he'd explain. He rarely did when he'd won, an irritating trait that made Balmung smile despite the mild spat of aggravation. Flashing the proper sum of digits to indicate he was going to number two, the Azure Sea first looked stern. It was a traditional pose, hands clasped behind his back, expression twisting into an all too familiar scowl. Then he stepped back, and shrank away from the sight of his previous pose of… Of stern authority. The two hints fell into place with a loud crash, one that must be audible for Orca did not present any more hints thereafter.

"You're on the computer despite being grounded again!"

To that Orca stuck his tongue out, and then crossed his eyes for good measure.

"Why am I always the accomplice to your little forays into rule breaking?"

Orca smiled and shrugged, not much of an answer there. Not even a hint. And despite how he groaned and groused Balmung smiled indulgently all the while.

XXX

For each floor there was a random limerick. The first had chilled them both and on their return they'd been suitably sober and somber. That mood had lasted through a phlantax of Gob Machines. The clockwork beasts had been led by a snake haired Flame Maiden, the serpents winding about her brow had flicked tongues of smoke, stared at them with malovant ash weeping eyes.

Calling the fire of his blade to life Orca had charged into the melee, hacking into armored hides and battering shields. A spray of oil marked a critical hit, and then the fire spread, tracing oil and catching the steel and gears under the steel hide alight. Stepping aside, giving one smoking beast plenty of room, Orca threw himself into the crush, smiling widely, carefully mute.

As for himself, Balmung's blade seeped mist and bore small threads of water. Checking his grip, he leapt, gliding over the melee to get at the beastly hordes leader. Tucking one leg to avoid getting his foot impaled by one opportunistic gob's blade, the Azure sky skirted above the fights' from, his pseudo flight was traced in shades of smoke and ash. With the barest of sounds he landed, blade still weeping and braced in steady hands.

"You hardly look like corrupt data, or a hacker." He noted, only that.

Lipless mouth twisting into a sneer, the snake woman bared fang the color of dirty concrete. Snarling an expletive so smoke choked its meaning could only be deciphered by tone, she set one clawed hand to slashing out his eyes. His blade flicked up, blocked the strike, held them both in a lock. With a yowl the Flame Maiden pulled back, black gown so long and thick he could not tell if she moved a tail or had in truth legs. Whatever her means she pulled back, nursing a suddenly clawless hand.

With a flick of his wrist he shook out his blade, water splattered against the dusty stones of the dungeon's castle-esk flooring. That and something thicker, sullen. A something that fell with a kinship to how waterlogged ash might. There were five, whatever's, her claws, her fingers, he could not tell, she nursed her hands too tight to her breast for that.

"Stand down!" Balmung barked.

To his challenge she bared fangs of concrete, flashing a venom soaked tongue in defiance. So showing she spat; and the mustard yellow carpet sputtered and smoked where her spittle landed. With a click of claws from her whole hand she summoned a staff that looked like a vein of molten matter drawn from the wrist of the world. So armed she hissed again, half choking on the smoke that surely coiled in her own lungs.

"Fine then."

He'd held the blade of Honor's Breathe in his own hands, carried Heaven and Earth between tightly clenched fingers. As for this blade, its name eluded him; he'd had so many, carried them so often. The blade did not matter, the holder did. That and the target.

"You had your chance, prepare yourself."

She did, lifting her staff high the once empty and lightless torches imbedded into the walls burst into searing flame. Walls blackened, charred. And to all that, the flame and it's maiden, the staff drawn from the wrist of the World, Balmung smiled.

It was like coming home.

He charged.

XXX

"I'm going to have trauma."

Ignoring Balmung's grumble, Orca cheerfully harvested Bear Cat Eggs. In the back room, past Flame Maidens and Gob Machines lay a room of horror. No Cerberus haunted the back room, the most hostile thing about was a neat row of crates and boxes. Still, Balmung felt trauma coming on, that and a headache.

"Bear cat eggggg! Bear caaaaaat egggg! Beeeeear cat egg! BEEEAAARR CAAAT EGGGG!"

Ignoring the singing, quite a feat in and of itself, the Azure Sky grimaced.

"Isn't one Milky Grunty enough for you?"

Orca's bright sunny smile said "No, not really" more than loud enough.

"Why me?" Balmung mourned.

Wicked glimmer alight and present, Azure Sea looked to the Azure Sky. In that silence, between one's grin and the other's groan their eyes met. A "why not" just didn't need any saying, it was articulated, that and a world of disgust.

To that Balmung admitted to the inevitable.

"I'm going to get some Tylenol, hold things together will you?"

Tilting his head to the side, Orca blinked.

"I've got a headache." Balmung explained, enunciating the obvious with irritation. "A bad one."

Orca shrugged, totally unrepentant, than got to rooting amongst boxes and crates sought out the singing Bear Cat Eggs. It wasn't a hard task, simply a noisy one.

XXX

He felt like a child again.

Mired in some transgression he barely comprehended, creeping down the stairs for a necessity his grounding forbade him. So many times, too many times to count, and too varied for comfort he'd faced this scenario. Like a thief he sulked down the stairs, minding each step, from stairs to hallway he crept. It was there at the doorless hall's opening he stopped, trapped before the threshold yet drawn by the off yellow of the living room light. Once out the couch would beckon the first piece of furniture between him and back. It faced the TV, a vibrant overstuff monstrosity that would have its back on him. As for its occupants, they too wouldn't see him enter…

Not right at first.

The couch's accomplice would sound fully blare color across the room, staining an intruder in the station of the moment. In turn his shadow would blot out that light, and Mother and Father would know he'd come down. _After _would begin prematurely, and be all the more vicious when they realized that it was being put off again.

Heart heavy and thudding despite its acquired weight he crept from dark to light. Shoulders set, stomach knotted. Why couldn't' they keep the family's stockpile of medicine in the bathroom, in the medicine cabinet like everyone else? The sheer irritation (that poorly masked his mounting panic) of that thought set his face into a grimace. And no matter how he tried the harsh lines wouldn't smooth. No matter how much he reminded himself what was at stake… he just _couldn't_. So he gritted his teeth and crossed over, forcing himself with every step.

And blinked at what greeted him.

The TV was silent, it's screen dark. Mother and Father weren't in their accustomed placed watching the late night news. His halfhearted yet fully formed greeting dribbled past his lips, like spittle. Unformed unsaid, and quickly wiped away. Reaching out, hand absently flowing over the couch's back, his game sore fingers flinching at the occasional stiff seam and hard spot amongst the fluff. He paced alongside the shockingly empty couch, mind a million miles away.

When the piece of furniture ended his hand lingered a moment or two, fingers clenching the releasing. The silence, the lack of light smothered. For one insane moment he ached to remedy that. To turn on the TV, beat back the monotony of that sole light with a barrage of meaningless hues. But then his head pounded. More light was all he needed right now, his burning photosensitive eyes and throbbing skill informed him that to act on those impulses was to cosign him to a _real_ migraine one so bad he'd have to log out and break his promise to Lios.

Steeling himself, he trooped into the equally empty kitchen, fished out some medicine and with the aid of some tap water tossed it down. Thus fortified he slipped out as quietly as he'd come.

Turning out each light as he found, and ultimately left, it behind.


	11. Of Morgona part 3: Impromptu Trade

Sterile Skies

Chapter 11

Of Morgona Part 3: Impromptu Trade

Edited on 11/2/10

Each floor they were offered a tidbit. The voice that blathered on was worn, sing song, yet bordered on monotone. Each raving came like verse from forgotten scripture yet was too fanciful and dark to be born of holy verse. Perhaps it was a story, Orca dared to whisper. Snippets of a whole, torn from some greater yarn the frayed remnants presented out of order for their benefit.

Yet forwarding what they'd endured to Lios had garnered them nothing. So they pressed on, unknowing, wiser heads left to dissect the fragments they unearthed.

"There's a cadence to it, it breaks the monotone, shakes it off of the… voice…" Balmung muttered. "I've had teachers with the same thing. They spoke in monotone only shaking it off when they were reading something that shook them. But they'd lectured so long, so often, it was like they'd forgotten how too… to feel what they were saying."

To Orca's curious look Balmung continued.

"There is a cadence to what you read aloud sometimes. The old epics have it more than the new ones. There's something there that takes you in, and the older stories are stuffed with it. This has something like it, but it's not quite right."

Orca nodded, looked grim serious. How much of that was due to what was happening here in the World rather than the idle concerns of the person behind the warrior? Was that squeak some rodents cry made midi file or the warning of a knob being turned? Could the thunderous clash of monster claw scraping against sword mask the approach of an enraged parent, and inevitably which was the greater foe? With such anxieties dogging his steps Balmung would never have been able to enjoy himself. How Orca did was a wonder of the World, real and otherwise. Marveling the Azure Sky simply lead them both deeper in, third floor became fourth, and the voice sounded again.

"_So advised the Black:_

"_Speak not of loss and woe._

_Abjure the calamitous chatter of disaster and death._

_Such shrill wailings will break heaven's arch."_

As they left that final step between third floor and fourth, so rang their omen. Dutifully Balmung wrote it down, one flashmail later and his left foot joined the right, both securely planted on the second to last floor.

"Spooky." Orca dared a whisper. "I'm gunna have nightmares for sure."

To that Balmung nodded, in agreement, to comfort, he never said. He merely nodded then tossed out a fairy orb and let the floors and its contents come into being via a map that wasn't. A map that could only be seen on the edge of sight. Studiously studying what wasn't there, the Azure Sky grimaced. Eight yellow dots speckled the angled halls and scattered rooms, eight potentially "hacked" or "altered" bits of monster data remained on this leg. Something was wrong here, and Lios' lack of response was no comfort.

"Let's go." And though he had no parents to dodge or secrets to keep the Azure Sky took his cue from his partner. He spoke in a whisper, leached of bravo, the soft sound shaking a bit around the edges.

XXX

Vomiting fire, spiting smoke, the beasts very coming stained the walls in gold and bloody hues. Gloom grey walls were painted in flamboyant hues of burning, mustard yellow carpets were put out of their misery, smoldering under the beasts' very paws. Larger than a flame head by at least four feet, the Cerberus' three heads bayed even as it charged. It was a brainless barking, monotonous, and sure. Had it not been so deep throated and rough he'd have made a comparison to say… a toy dog.

Annoying toy dogs, all bark and a maw too small to have any bite.

He felt the urge to kick, felt it, fought it, and drew his sword instead.

"Swap blades, I'll buy sometime!"

With a flutter of his wings, a half leap half charge, Balmung rushed into the fray.

"Maaaan…" Left behind, Orca whined under his breath. "I like my fire sword."

Complaint done, he half closed his eyes, skimming through menus, looking for a watery blade.

XXX

Balmung leapt blade bared, trailing torrents and leaving smoldering wounds at each pass. For his part his armor smoldered, the flesh under it was burned, and despite that he fought on. It was like running with a sunburn, each motion a stinging slap over a tender span. Smothering a gasp, he croaked, and swung. Another slash, a stinging onslaught of smoke and steam rushed against his smarting face and eyes, such were the rewards of combating fire creatures.

Thus occupied, the cheery voice of the automated trade system was _most_ unwelcome.

"Welcome to CC Corps automated trade option, Player Character Orca would like to trade (1) Stream Sword for (1) Burning Oil."

Startled, Balmung missed with his next swing. So much so that the bright red "miss" indicator flashed into the Cerebus' eyes. Well, one set of eyes anyway. With a blink and a wince one of the three heads flinched back, the other two reared back telltale embers dribbling from their fangs

Not that he noticed, having turned to Orca, utterly shocked.

"You forgot a water sword!" Balmung roared.

Orca's shrug really said nothing at all, friend telepathy aside.

"Ding! Reminder one of three! Does PC Balmung accept this trade?"

Ignoring it for now, Balmung fumed. "I told you we were going to a fire field, Lios emailed you we were going to a fire field, _how_ many times do we have to tell you before…"

Wings hair and cloak whipped forward, drawn to the intake of brimstone laden breathe. That snapped Balmung out of mid lecture, that and Orca's wild pointing. Staring into three reptilian faces that sported doggish ears and brainless eyes, the Azure Sky blanched. To that, it smiled, three faces, three smiles, all dripping embers.

"Reminder two of three! Does Player Balmung accept-"

"Yes!" Balmung screeched.

Smiles widened, if AI could be malicious this was a manifestation of it. Three liquid eyes (oil eyes, waiting breathlessly for the first spark, such was the nature of the liquid) locked on him, seemed to say "Don't like dogs do we?" Then, insane, inane…

"Thank you for using CC Corps automated trade-"

Fire descended, before the automated message was done, not quite before the trade finished, but well before the Azure Sky could use said Oil to buffer the damage. Red and yellow filled his vision; smoke seemed to saturate his lungs. Coughing, he soundlessly staggered back, the comforting ching of metal against stone as his boots scrapped the latter was absent. By that utter lack of sound he knew he'd been KOed, and a quick glance down confirmed it. Though he favored white he was too pale, and more than a touch translucent. Talking one step to the side so his coloring didn't match the dried mustard color of the carpet when he looked down Balmung spared a glance at Orca. Smiling wide, all but dancing, Orca held his "new" weeping sword in steady hands, and to that the Azure Sky glowered.

"You did bring a Revive along, didn't you?"

Orca's grin and wink didn't offer much comfort. Nor did the fact he gave his "new" sword a few experimental swings. Unable to do anything, save sigh, and set one transparent hand to an equally transparent head, the Azure Sky watched as the Azure Sea rushed into the fray.

He gave it a minute, either for Orca to be PKed or to slay the beast. Whichever happened it would be quick, sipping water in the Real, eyes fixed on the World, Balmung sighed. Maybe Orca had a Revive, hopefully he did, otherwise the last leg of the dungeon promised to be very boring indeed.

XXX

Subject: Investigation Results for Omega Burried Purgatorial Drift

Area notes: level eighty nine, fire element, lava based field.

To Lios, Admin. Of CC Corp

From PC and Moderator Balmung of the Azure sky,

Such was the dialogue that both Orca and I encountered. Each sounded on reaching the beginning of each floor. The effect was strictly audial and had the added effect of overlapping all background music. When one tried to speak back to the speech's originator the person delivering the dialogue responded by increasing their volume but did not deviate from their recitation. Other encountered abnormalities will be detailed in a follow up email under the same heading.

Upon enter:

"Under the frenzy of hooves, brought low by despair,

(immersed in) such things born of false promises, morbid truths, all uncensored.

We wondered of time, how much remains?

We grieved times loss, oh what should have been!"

The second floor

"The trails and trails of despair and hope…

Both are the same, in step and cadence.

Both end when the coin of faith is spent."

The third floor:

So spoke the White: (a reflection on his/its nature)

Eyes wide ever seeing

Atrocities and miracles in equal measure

So wide, so sure, never blinking, such started the unhinging of the mind.

(they, the eyes) were replaced by mirrors of brass and gold. The tongue crude copper, to best bespeak such cruelties.

(it) Spoke tirelessly of what was sought, seen, and wrought

Till copper rusted, dripping putrid hues and rusted streams at times behest.

The fourth floor

So spoke the Black;

"Speak not of loss and woe

Abjure such calamitous chatter of disaster and death

Such shrill wailings will break heavens arch."

Conclusion

Though fragmented these speeches, dialogues, seemed connected by a common narrative. If the original source can be found perhaps a motive or person can be ascribed to the situation. I'll leave the final decision in your hands, if needed for fuller details please feel free to contact me by phone or flashmail. I have enclosed via an attachment my partner, Orca's, cellphone number at his consent. Please note and adhere to the times listed, as those are the only "safe" spans to contact him. His flashmail also is listed if more impersonal contact is desired.

Parenthesis are mine, fruit of Orca and my arguing as to what was being spoken about and for clarification and to allude to our conclusions.

Balmung of the Azure Sky.

_Author's note: Well baring one more "Morgona" chapter and an epilogue this concludes my pre game notes. Now, I've a question to all who are reading. I've some sketchy notes for the Infection-Quarantine timelines, I could try to continue. If I do would you like it to stay on this story Sterile or would you prefer a separate entry? Let me know via a review or email please. Thanks for your time, Kasan Soulblade_


	12. Of Morgona part 4: Gripping knives

Sterile Skies

Chapter 12

Of Morgona part 4: Touching the Knife's Edge

Edited on 11/2/10

Sullenly, stonily, he sat, back stiff eyes thinned. His mother's eyes, dark blue, his father's expression stubborn and stoic, his heritage was set on every line. Fanned before him, set by his own hand, lay the incriminating evidence. Printed from their computer, the date and time tucked in the lower corner were the nitpick details of when and where were meant to reside. Flooring sizes, lease agreements, payment plans, took the bulk of the damning page, their details immortalized in size thirteen font, black ink, double space.

All of it, right there, so stark it hurt. A betrayal in its own right, well beyond the mere "contemplation" step he'd promised. A signature on three of the five agreements would have made speculation into legally binding. Taking their usual places, Mother reading, Father glowering, he waiting, they made a tense threesome. All around them, in varied containers, tidily presented, breakfast cooled. There would-be plans (his to sleep, theirs to go on an outing as "usual") were definitely shattered. Well, for now. With luck he'd get a nap in a little later, as for the ritual outing he hardly cared as he wasn't going. There was no arguing that either, and if it took him to sign one of those papers and mail it out to forgo going… it'd be stupid, but he'd do it.

"I'll trade you paper for paper Satosh'." Father drawled, thus he produced a slew of bills, all opened, the cost of each meticulously highlighted. Clearly Satoshi wasn't the only one prepared. Satoshi skimmed the costs, the titles, and strived to keep his expression neutral. Electric, gas, water, sewage, a dated World bill, each alone wasn't a surprised, it was when you added them together it became sickening. Tabbed onto any rend of the five plans and sickening deteriorated into horrendous.

"Unless C.C. Corp is going to pay you a thousand next week I wouldn't be in such a rush to move out."

Keeping the shock off his face, fighting to hold back a horrible chocking pressure that was helpless bitter, and more than a touch terrifying, Satoshi snorted. Those numbers were the physical representation, the tally really, of a lifestyle where you lived check to check. One bad week, a touch of flu, a span of strep, and God help him. Those numbers, so placid seeming on white all but sniggered up at him. "Dream of independence, do you? Think again you little fool!"

Still he kept it from showing, as best he could.

"Waking up yet?" Father grunted.

Closing his eyes so to better blot out those numbers, Satoshi sighed. Pressure and terror, all he needed. Considering the potentially dangerous slant that his professional life had just taken… He opened his eyes gaze blade sharp, expression placid.

"I've been awake and I've been considering."

Both stared at him, not quite believing that with the proof before him he hadn't "woken up yet" or "repented" or whatever. Pulling a notebook from his lap Satoshi flipped to the proper doodle incrusted page. His rebuttal was the same as theirs. On the page, in his hand, lay the electric sewage, etcetera estimates for a single person's usage in the size of the given apartments he'd been researching. Math in tidy rows, sums circled (he hadn't been able to find the highlighter, though now he knew why, Father _never_ put anything back after using it) he'd tied each sum to each rent. And though his sums were almost as vicious as theirs there were a few leniencies here and there. Enough to live off of, but just barely.

"Satoshi." Mother protested. "In the worse month's you barely make it, by mere cents in summer!"

He set his gaze on hers, stern yet placid so fitting to another… and she looked away first. Still he spoke. "I didn't say I wanted to do this, only that I might have to."

"For a game?" Sora snapped, disbelieving.

"It's more than just a-"

"For a job?" He pressed, still not getting it.

"It's more than just a job."

Silence, incomprehension from them both. To that expected, he sighed.

"It's only research." He soothed.

The spread of leases made that a lie, still they both nodded. Taking comfort in what he said.

"An idle consideration." Mother reiterated.

To that, for her, he nodded. Father took the bills, and then moved to take the notebook and leases. Satoshi snapped a hand forward, blocked the grab by making sure his hand made it there first. Father met son's gaze, met and saw… something. Enough that he lowered his hands gave up without a contest. Slipping the papers in their attendant notebook with a shuffle, he stood.

"I don't feel like going out, last night was long I'm going to take a nap. Don't feel you have to wait up."

Thus he left as he'd entered, to awkward silence.

XXX

They argued as they dispatched. Snarling (or rather in Orca's case, whispering vehemently) out potential cause and clause to the madness, they encountered at the start of each floor. Ice bloomed like flowers in Spring on fast forward. Fragments of chill speared the undersides of a Pandora Box, set Gob Machines to scattering, and herded one Flame Maiden to and fro as she danced out of the cold's way. Daring the artic daggers, Orca wadded into the ice spells, daring ice and snowdrifts, water sword set to cut through monsters, fire sword to sheer through the arcane debris. Overall it was a tidy arrangement, clean, neat, and efficient. More importantly it was proving to be devastating to the monsters about them.

Which was no bad thing.

The bad thing of it was that… well it was annoying. After all, the sword was his, or rather _had_ been his. Another point of his irritation was that Orca had… well swindled didn't feel quite right. You didn't swindle your friends after all. You could take advantage of an unfair situation though, and Orca had done that. Sourly musing he held the rear, summoning rains and ice daggers via scrolls and armor enchantments. Though Orca was similarly equipped with water based armor he lacked the patience to stand through a spell casting so Balmung provided the arcana.

And, immature as it was… well he aimed some of it so that ice slid down the Azure Sea's back. Orca's oh-so-suave response to that bit of revenge (once the hopping had died down) was to scoop up a lump of ice and snow and throw it at Balmung. Shielding himself with a wing, the Azure Sky glared at the Azure Sea, flicking ashy snow (they were, after all, not the only ones with magic, as flame maidens seemed to like torching the room and its inhabitants at every opportunity) off of his wing with a hand. No words were needed. Orca stuck out his tongue and Balmung rolled his eyes, and the cringing neglected Gob Machine was dispatched with an casually tossed out Cynus scroll and they moved on.

Barring that, there was only one distraction in their investigation. A minor thing quickly sorted out with a round of paper, rock, scissors. Game done, wrist smarting (rock beat scissors after all, in all senses of the word) Orca watched with a sullen air as Balmung strolled up to the flame sheathed Gott Statue. Tilting his head this way and that, trying to decipher the blocky, amorphous, _sorta alludes to fire but who knew what it really was_, statue Balmung gave up and just went for the treasure like he always did.

Pointedly he ignored Orca, who was making soft clucking noises, the same noise he always made when Balmung considered anything. They'd fought over it before, Balmung adamant that tilting his head was not birdish, Orca insistent that it was. The degradation of being round about called a chicken set his teeth on edge, and as he opened the chest he resolved that any Golden Grunties he found were to be deleted. In front of Orca's wide, protesting eyes.

Slowly.

A tap of his blade on the chest caused it to pop open, and two Vessel of Sky's and an Ishtar Wand later and he joined his partner. Still holding his wrist, Orca cast his friend a curious look. To that Balmung flashed a sunny smile, and was off without saying a word. Trailing, curiosity and frustration stamped on his face, the Azure Sea loyally trailed after the Azure Sky. With a half turn, Balmung headed out, still smiling wide, telling nothing. Realizing that Balmung wasn't going to tell, ever, the Azure Sea stuck his tongue out again, and glared.

Whistling a jaunty tune, deciding they were even for the Burning Oil incident, the Azure Sky opened his map and spying a yellow dot just a room or two away lead the way with a cheery wave.

Orca, less than pleased, endured the chipper turn of his partner's mood with a sigh and roll of his eyes.

Thus they carried on, into a demons den, though they'd never know it.

XXX

_To Lios, Admin of CC Corp._

_From Balmung of the Azure Sky, Moderator_

_I know it's uncalled and outside protocol to contact you this late at night, especially after an investigation when I sent the appropriate paperwork ahead. However, I felt this incident to warrant a bending of the rules. Per the promise within my previous message this involves the second "incident"…_

_You know… even after writing that… it's been almost fifteen minutes, I look blankly at the screen, see the clock ticking in the lower left and… I can't seem to go beyond that. It's as if that word sums it up so well the details run away. I should sleep on it, that's what logic says, but it's still too fresh…_

_And any sleep now I'd get would be that of nightmares. And, right now… nightmares are the last thing I need._

XXX

It was a Cerebus, its hide the color of muted embers, fire falling from its jaws. In that it was the same as any other in this dungeon and beyond it. Yet it was different, tossing a fairy orb to check its data (any flaws and indescrepency would have told them this was the one) he waited, breath hitched, for it to be… different. It wasn't, the monster was the same as any other, and so they acted as they had before. Falling on familiar strategy that was so familiar it wasn't even discussed. Orca's mad rush, sword swings summoning small rains, Balmung still and steady, Winter's essence flowing form his fingers as the appropriate words roiled off his lips. It was over in a moment; the massive beast was whipped off its feet by winter's finest gale, slashed and doused clean by a blade that held rivers in its edges. It didn't live to land, dimming even as it fell to hues akin to dirty ash. Having seen it all before, Orca sheathed his blade, smiling, smug.

"And that's th-"

Balmung's wide eyes gaping mouth told him that it wasn't that, he had enough time to think that before something massive and hard, hot and heavy, smashed into his side. Spinning as he fell, he caught a glimpse of something moving the color of embers, with pads, claws… A paw. He'd been swatted aside by a paw of the thing they'd just killed. Rising beyond its death, the monster shouldered off the dim and glowed. Vibrant burning red, with specks of data green coiling about its neck like a mane, it smoldered the very stones with its rebirth…

Gaping, Orca struck the wall, only half aware impact had come, too shocked to honestly feel it he crumpled, still gaping, eyes wide.

"What in hell…" He croaked, wincing as he burned and bruised all at once. "Is… going on."

Looking from beast to Balmung, he waited for an answer. Unable to answer, his own gaze riveted on the reborn monster, sword out, he shook. Staring, he read stats, saw that the magical attack was impossibly high, infinite, and for that discovery he shook.

That shaking became a shudder of pure terror when he saw that the magical defense was following a similar pattern.

"Get up." Balmung breathed. And to that stark, ragged voice, Orca complied, never mind the pain. "Swords only, as fast and as hard as you can, we've got to kill this thing fast."

"But it's a fire monster, wouldn't ice-"

"Just do it!" Voice breaking, posture tense, the Azure Sky gritted his teeth. "This is it, the thing we've been looking for! We kill it, we find the hacker, and CC Corp deals with it and that's that."

Nodding, Orca drew his new sword, sighed. "Man oh man do I hurt."

To that Balmung cracked a grin, tension spent. "And keep your voice down; I'm not going to be an accessory to you being grounded again."

"Grounded-er." Orca corrected fussily.

"Whatever."

"Watch its fires." The Azure Sky warned, smile fading, face set in grim lines. "Nothing can stand against them now."

"Right."

And with that warning the Azure Sea charged, blade leading. Data danced in the beast's eyes as it considered them, the one who held back, the one who charged. Some decision met those hollowed out eyes ceased to crackle, the numbers that served it for eyes stilled, closed, than it reared. Reared and breathed, not fire but ice. With a yelp of shock, dodging blue gales and icy fragments, the Azure Sea scrambled the hell out of the way; the floor behind him froze over, then with a titanic crack shattered.

Data sizzled and crackled, numbers and fragments of words rose like fire, like smoke, from the icy gash in the graphics at their feet.

Detached, numb, though hardly touched by the attack, the Azure Sky shivered at the revelation before him. In Dante's Comedy, the lowest pits of hell were ice. Lucifer himself was sheathed in the chill of a hundred thousand, twisted souls. Sheathed, and trapped. And considering the modern situation, they lay waiting for men to delve too deep and pierce his arctic prison with all the best intents of the world, only to release hell's legions upon themselves all by accident.

Breath steaming the air, he watched with wide eyes as embers died, turned to horrid brittle hues of frost bite, and frost burn.

"Balmung, a little help here!"

Wings unfurled, blade drawn, he stared at beast and revelation all unwanted, watching as green spread, spilled down the neck and across the shoulders. That decided him. Never mind if his blade wept, or couldn't, or didn't, he hardly noticed, he hardly cared. The edge was sharp and that would serve for now. Blade drawn, wings unfolded, he looked upon the fray.

And the numbers, they climbed, dangerously high, not quite lethal. Defense still remained intact, untouched, but the HP was going up.

God help them all when that went up, nothing could save them then.

"Balmung!" Orca snapped. "Wake up already!"

Jarred, disturbed, the Azure Sky looked to the Azure Sea, and in a tone unlike his norm, a throwback to a half grown man facing pressure and terrors, strain and shattering, he said. "I am awake, never doubt that."

And with that quiet proclamation he raced into the fray, half flying, half running, into the maws of Hell's own champion.

XXX

"_I guess… it's expected that I continue. How can I describe that fight, so frantic, so insane?_

_Each blade stroke parted hide, we were buffeted by winter storm, gusts so bitter you had to cry, to cough, and to do both than stagger away seeking cleaner air. For there was rot under the ice, though you couldn't see it, it was there. Despite our best it grew, in numbers and strength, the putrid green of corruption and specks growing, flowing, incasing it slow and sure._

_It wasn't quite as large as One Sin, but at times it got close, and still we hammered, like mad. Numbers lowering, our attack drained of force when faced to the exponential growth of HP and defense. As for attack, each move it made stripped walls of well… themselves. We saw the code, bits and pieces of it. As if the World were a shell and all the stuff mathematicians' love was secreted away in its very walls."_

XXX

"Get back!" Swinging, wild and barely sane, the Azure Sea swiped and slashed, and three sets of spatting green eyes gazed at him, dispassionate, hardly impressed. But then, the slew of one at each blows conclusion weren't impressing him much either. "Bloody cheater, jerk!" Orca howled, reverting back to insults suiting his age as his nerve finally broke.

Above, smashing heads and daring the occasional stab at eyes that just weren't the Azure Sky attacked from above, desperately trying to keep the thing off his partner. One wild buck on the hound's part divested him of blade. Unwilling to risk a menu dive to get another the Azure Sky attacked with all he had left, himself. Snapping arms around one set of maws, hugging it closed, tighter than anything else before, he shuddered and ice formed along the ridges of his armor. Ice and electricity, as the green specks spat small storms along his limbs, leaving burning paths all over his arms.

Still, never mind, screw numbers, forget pain, he wasn't loosing, not here, not now.

"Orca! Forget slashing! Just stab the thing's throat!"

"But that's now how..."

The head he held tossed, first back then forth, the two others reared, mist seeping through their fangs, like off colored smoke.

"Just do it!"

Gritting his teeth, Orca obeyed uncertainty more than evident. Letting loose his hold, even as Orca stabbed, he fell from the beasts back, ice arched behind him. Hitting the floor, he rolled, sliding over real and unreal spans with impunity. The number encrusted sections were as solid and real feeling despite their translucent surrealism, still he winced at the contact with what shouldn't be even as Orca staggered back into him. Snapping his head up, Balmung grinned at what he saw, patted Orca on his back. A mute "good work" if there ever was, damned good work truth be told, and to that Orca relaxed. He knew that everything was alright now. Certainly Balmung would know, after all, didn't his friend always know when things were going bad? Then the inverse was true, things were finally going good, and that was enough for now.

Jaws sealed shut by its own ice attack, each mouth shutting the other up when trying to blast Balmung, a sword thrust through the center neck, the creature slumped from three different "mortal" wounds. And though it had health it wasn't moving. A familiar dullness was stealing over its pelt. And to that Orca grinned, so much for infinite health. Spearing his friend a grin, the Azure Sea swatted Balmung's back, to share the triumph of the moment even as his mind twiddled with a few taunts. After all, brotherly camaraderie was all well and good... but teasing the heck out of his best friend for freaking out like a little girl would be better. In a week or two, Orca decided. Maybe three, just to be nice, yeah, definitely three. Pulse pounding in his throat, in Real and World both, the Azure Sea definitely decided to give this three weeks to cool before teasing Balmung about screaming like a girl.

"I'd say that this fight had gone safely beyond "good" and into epic bad assery, what'cha think?" Orca drawled, acting like nothing had happened, nothing epic, or bad assery, or anything important.

His shaking hands in the real though made that a lie, still he made the effort to brag and put it both behind them.

Best way to handle things in his book. Granted, Balmung would say his book was a font size too large and there were too many pic documents, but… well… that was Balmung. And speaking of his winged friend… The Azure Sky stared at nothing at all, brooded, which was his way of dealing with all the little things.

Granted Balmung's book was probably font size ten, single spaced, no pics, but well… that was Balmung.

"What'cha think?" Orca pressed, ribbing his friend to get some response.

"I think…" Careful, quiet, as always, the Azure Sky looked up. "That it's time to leave."

"Aw, come on, we can take a pic or something to immortalize this or something!" Orca whined.

"I'll report this to Lios, but we should go, it's not safe, what if it comes back again?"

"You're no fun." Orca mourned.

"I'm working." Balmung grunted. "Not playing."

A soft shatter brought them both back to the here and now. Both Blade Master's turned; not quite believing that it had started again, not wanting to know it started again. Eyes wide, frames tense, they watched as the green shattered, still vibrant, hardly dimmed despite its host's death. It broke off in icy chunks to shatter against the ground soundlessly. And from the fragments it broke down further, from solidary matter to liquid, steamlessly melting.

Sickly green, flowing slow; it spread like blood about its carrier, than began consuming it. Licking up blue hide, turning it the same green as itself, dragging it down like quicksand.

And it was spreading… Seeping from the beast, oozing from the data speckled walls…

Snapping Orca's shoulder he shoved him to the door, blade out never mind which one, he took comfort that he was armed, Balmung followed his partner out. And behind them, beyond them, the Cerebus melted, not soundlessly, but screaming. Not with words, but snippets of coherent sounds, mad sounds, berserk sounds, swearing vengeance and worse betrayals for the pain of its birthing. Snatching the door he threw it shut behind them. Leaning against the thick wood, he listened to how the screams became murmurs, but only by virtue of the barrier at his back.

"Log out…" Balmung whispered. "Now."

And to that ragged, raging voice, the Azure Sea started, stared at his friend. Concern warred with terror, finally understanding surmounted all.

"Not without you." Orca countered, just as soft, more than a little stubborn. "I know you, you idiot. They broke it, that thing, the whatever, it broke the World. And you won't allow that, you want to go in, by yourself, and to Hell with that."

To that accusation Balmung said nothing. Then, after a long silence. "They took the knife and pealed it back, showed it false… I can't… I won't…"

"Allow it?" Orca hissed. "It happened, its happening, get over it."

And bless him, for not saying "it was false" of "it's just a game", so unlike everyone else, Orca saw the reality of the World for what it was. An alternative. Still, this felt too much like desecration, destruction, and he shook at his own helplessness.

"Come on man, it's like two in the morning, time to go to bed. Write Lios and turn in, call it a night and tomorrow…"

"They'll shut the area down." Balmung warned.

And to that Orca nodded, already knowing. "Good. Then that's for the best."

To that show of sense Balmung cracked a smile. "Bed sounds awesome, more epic than anything I've ever heard all day."

"Not bad ass epic though." Orca bantered.

"Well," Opening one eye, tone a touch… sly… Balmung chuckled. "That depends on who's in it."

And to Orca's blank return look, the Azure Sky chuckled. It was rare, but still there, the apparent differences in their ages. Shelving it for now the Azure Sky simply smiled.

"Good night my friend, till next time."

Taking heart from that, Orca nodded, patted through pockets that weren't, skimming through menus that were too long sometimes yet not long enough to hold all the World's riches. Having seen it all before Balmung closed his eyes, then by memory found what he sought. Sprite ocarina in hand the Azure Sky considered the Azure Sea.

"Tomorrow?"

"Love to, but I can't… Gotta friend, newbie, to show the World off too."

"Then have fun with that." Balmung bid. "And don't forget the Risky Chest tutorial like you did with the last one."

"Hey!" Orca flared "I only did that once and-"

And he was speaking to nothing, as gold light chased than blurred the spot that was Balmung and whisked him away.

XXX

_.. I had to… to stop it. I couldn't log out. Though there was some prickling danger, a sense of something so wrong… But fought on, unsaid but knowing in our heats that it's wrongness was the spur. It's… profanity and destruction of the World about it was what pushed us on. I'm out of healing potions by the way, just a random thought there. Out of healing potions though my HP wasn't touched. Merely being in its presence it caused so much discomfort that even a perceived comfort was needed to carry on._

_I think... the intensity of the pain inflicted on me… and the sounds, those screams, get to me the most. It isn't something that… that you caught the first time around. But thinking back they almost make sense, such horrible sense._

_And… mad this may seem… there are times I recall… or that I think that I recall… it saying my name. My real name, my World name, it melded both together. A bastardization of identity its tones were contempt, its voice madness. Inspiring and participating._

_Calling me back, calling me coward, calling me worse…_

_I feel as if we are on the edge of something. Something razor sharp, we grip the hilt of a blade for comfort only to find we've been clutching the blade._

_And I don't know what to do, I really don't. I know I overstep myself, become too personal when professionalism is needed… but… this feels needed too._

_Contact me if you've any questions or concerns._

_Balmung of the Azure Sky._


	13. Promises kept, epilogue

Sterile Skies

Epilogue: Promises kept,

Lios finally responded, a day and a half later he'd sent the official company forum letter "Thank you for your time and effort that you've put in via your investigation" and so on and so forth. It was so forum he had to open a reader program to look at it. It was so forum, from a man who seemed to hate formality that he knew Lios hadn't sent it. Call it a gut feeling, a hunch, intuition, but though Lios' mail address marked him as the sender…

It just wasn't, wasn't him, wasn't right.

So it wasn't Lios, and knowing that he found it easy to get over it. The _what_, though? He had to get over what… pain? Yes the forum letter had hurt, but not _deeply_. Not enough that he needed to _get over it_. Perhaps it was less the lack of consideration and more just the lack of information. They had locked down the area he and Orca had investigated, and he'd learned that fun fact through the board. Not through them.

Perhaps it was just the lack of… well the lack itself, the subtle shunting off to the side that worried him the most.

And considering everything else going on. This sudden revelation, this lack of information, it weighed on him day and night. It was a burden that never let up. Enough so they noticed, both Mother and Father questioned him, and one of his teachers who was fond of him in a distant fashion had pulled him aside, obviously concerned. Tossing out a "Guess I'm just tired from work" to one and all he mewed himself up in his room every day. Pretending to sleep, fearing his dreams.

That wore as well, and added to the weight he already endured it almost was too much. Still, like that night when he braced against the door shaking, he found enough within to keep a collected façade without. Enough so that they stopped asking at least, not enough that he slept easily, but it served. Though he was sandy eyed and irritable for many days after he took pains to hide it, and even the worried looks tapered off in time.

Laying on his back, completed model in hand, he stared at angular shadows and edges of wings. Wondering, idly where to put his newest project. But the ceiling was all but full, birds and planes contested the sky from their gossamer hangings. Still rolling the plane in his hands, testing the edge of fragile wings, he closed his eyes with a sigh.

Though it had been three days since their last conversation he missed talking to Orca. But nary had a text or flashmail come his way. Distinctly odd, that, but then perhaps Orca was adhering (or being forced to adhere, more honesty in that thought) to the rules of his punishment.

For once.

Maybe, hopefully.

Resolving not to worry until later, Satoshi yawned, resolving not to define later. If he did, in his present mood, he'd start counting the minutes between now and "later" and fretting himself sick. Which was all he'd needed. School was kicking up a notch, and home was… distinctly frigid.

"I'd rather be facing that ice dog again." He… or rather his "other" groused. "The reception was warmer, and at least it was happy to see me. Even if all it wanted was a screaming chew toy at the time."

To that bitter bit of truth Satoshi's heart twisted and squirmed. He ached to deny, rebuke, and refute even that idle comment. But it was truth, _the_ truth and both he and Balmung were too damned honorable to deny any truth. No matter the discomfort it raised. He couldn't close shut eyes, but he could scrunch them tight. He did so, till the sting behind his lids ceased and a dull headache took it'\s place.

Hovering between the burning stab and aching throb he loitered, mind blessedly empty, basking in silence that was wonderfully pure. Awareness left him in bits and pieces. Drowsing, he drifted on nothing at all, vaguely disturbed by an idea. No, not an idea, call it an image instead. Of green, and numbers, cast in putrid and spring hues, cycling through all the viridian hues beyond the edge of sight. And it was _in_ edges, tucked into the edge of everything, so faint as to not be there, yet still there despite the weakness of its own illumination. There was something wrong with that, unsettling, but the currents of being half aware only permitted him enough wit to note and ushered him along.

XXX

"I've arranged leave for you, a few days off as reward for your work. You take that time off young man, no investigating on your own. In a worker's week I'll meet you at Mac Anu, usual time, usual place."

Sent via text –not email, therefore it wasn't official- two days after the incident Balmung did as ordered. Going to the farthest corners of the World he sought wonders instead of answers. Strolling amongst the living ruins of a dead sea, wending past yammering cacti and 'waring the golden gates that marked monster's dens, he searched. For what, he wasn't sure. Drawn by the omnipresent scent of salt water perhaps he walked the oceanless beach, sparing only the occasional glance for blue skies that was so vibrant they shamed his very name.

Eventually glances became long looks, and before very long his gaze was fixed on heaven. He smiled at the tufts of white, the unhindered sun and all its golden light.

Something rose in him. Something warm, and soft, yet not smotheringly so. It was a familiar revelation, sweet as unnamed drinks sampled in fantastic taverns. Having something of sternness at its edges it was stiff as pride, stable as the companion at his back. The epiphany was so varied as it was true that he savored its many textures as he'd mull over a drink. Taking each moment, steady and slow, enjoying each moment.

He forged naming this moment however, simply paused in the thin bars of shade offered by the massive ribs of a beast form long ago. Eyes fixed to heaven, gauntleted hand idly tracing meaningful runes whose messages were long forgotten, he smiled. And basking from that unfamiliar warmth within, enjoying the warmth without, for the longest of whiles. Eventually he left his writings on the bone, and let his feet pick the path. As always they took to the heights, first tackling hills, than leading him to towers.

Artfully slender, with edges rounded by the pull and fall of surf so long gone it was meaningless to dwell on the times before; their very flanks were shards of wrinkled grey stone. Or, perhaps it was coral; there was a ghost of color about the edges of each fold. Whatever the bases' nature, he approached, then caught the edges in gauntleted hands and pulled himself up. Forgoing unrealistic leaps and other unreasonable feats of strength, he took to the spire with his hands and legs. Scaling the sides till the base ran out than daring the fragile heights he clawed hand holds into the sands beyond the stone. Soft as ash, brittle as snow, only sheer speed saved him from falling at times. Still, he strived, steadily scaling inhospitable heights, his wings all but forgotten.

Finally when he found a level span large and sturdy enough to bare him, he took a rest. What was forgotten seemed intent on being reclaimed as all on their own his wings unfolded and lazily summoned winds all their own. For a while it was only him, his thundering heart, and the silken sweep of his wings. Only that.

Legs dangling over the edge, armored limbs gleaming in the diming light, the pressure left him. That riding tension that had weighed so much, and was composed of so much more. Too soft to be a sigh and with nothing bite about it to grant it an edge, the breath he drew than released was simply that, breathing. Savoring the tranquility, hands clenching the edge so that it crumbled, he smiled into the glistening gold that was sand, and sun, and a moment that was just right.

A perfect moment.

Hands loosed the sand; fragments fell from his fingers as he dared that fragile edge, crowding its flawed extension.

Where what was true and false fell away, where it didn't matter.

Divorced of conscious thought, born of impulse (Surely impulse and not instinct. For despite all his dreams it never was meant to be and in his mind he knew that. All the protests of his heart to the contrary) he shoved off. Hands pushing away, legs kicking the earth back. He half slid, half slipped, wholly fell, and bizarre as it was the earth and it's spires raced behind and below. But not before and never up. Looking up, through falling's tears, the sky was blue, its clouds cotton ball white. Hair pulled back and up, wings stretched painfully high, he fell a picture perfect image of the celestial.

Save angels never fell; they only aspired and attained grace.

So though they fought, and thus he fought, he brought his wings down. The drag was tremendous, terror and laughter crowded his throat and never knowing which he'd have indulged he gritted his teeth and allowed nothing out. Pulling them up, feathers framed the sky above his head; his wings all but screamed their protest. Up and down, not frantic or frustrated, but wide and sure. As the idle sweeps had been forbearing to brace for a fall, eyes locked up, thus he flew.

And slowly, surely, his fall slowed, and then heart hammering, eyes wide, it stopped all together.

The sky was empty they said. With its clouds simply painted on the underside of heights unimagined and unattainable. Eyes would glare down; impossibilities would soar, all beyond touch. It would be as if they were drawing's on heavens' arch, that's all that would be, all it could be. Such was their promise; the skies would be empty, soundless, sterile bright.

Such was their primes, that echoing untouched place would be his, only his, if he wanted it enough. So they gave him wings without instructions, stripped of instinct, divorced from the bird they might have borne. They had given him wings! And he exulted, taking joy from flight he'd earned and learned all on his own. Laughing so hard and sure all of heaven must have heard, he chased an apex beyond fancy, chased after fantasy itself. Wings burning, sight blurring, he filled the sky with his happiness.

And all their promises aside, the sky was not empty, far from it.

XXX

_Orca, oh Orca I can't describe… I just can't. It's amazing, beyond amazing. I'm flying! I figured out how to use these wings at last! If you could see what I've seen… Just meet met at Mac Anu tonight, or tomorrow, or if you're really in trouble at home text me or something._

_Till then,_

_Balmung of the Azure Sky_

In the hospital, surrounded by sterile white walls, the very air burning her lungs, she cradled her son's phone. It had hopped to life under her hands once just once since that horrible day… The day she'd found her little boy sprawled before a staticy screen, headphones snapped over his ears, arms extended to the computer in some grotesque poise of worship. Or, perhaps, it was terror. A belated rejection, a futile recoil. Regardless, since finding him and that frantic race to the hospital, she'd been keeper of his phone, both she and it silent.

Save for that one time, that one deviant.

Opening it again, the click of its hinge thunderous in a world where there was only _his_ breathing, the soft beeps that confirmed _his_ heartbeat, she looked at the message. She read it again, though it seemed madness. After all, who could truly fly, with wings? Still, she went over the sparse lines, and wondered as she always did.

Who was this Balmung?

What was he to her little boy?

The questions tickled her mind, unsettled her to say the least. He'd always told her everything. Of school and friends, his hopes and dreams, even (though shyly, endearingly so) of an infatuation with a girl in his homeroom. But this Balmung, this one who spoke of flying, seemed a fragment of one of her son's inane flights of fancy. A part of a world that wasn't, a part of the world that had taken his attention from real matters and coaxed him to spend hours at play.

Fingers tracing the phone's back, she applied enough pressure, enough that it eased closed, without sound this time.

She could… call this… person. He (or she, with online folk you never really knew) might know… something.

To hopes ghost she clenched her fingers, hard and tight, grateful the phone was sturdy, half wishing it was not.

Wholly wishing her little boy would wake up, just wake up, just for her.

Closing eyes against air that burned, shutting eyes that blurred, she wept.

XXX

Though his was sober and there was a steady grace to each step, his eyes shone. Armor meticulously clean, hair smoothed and styled as much as the pixels would allow, he was a study on professionalism. Save those wings, they twitched something fierce.

Seeking skies not yet claimed perhaps, recalling past flights, maybe. Whatever the cause or clause Lios grinned at the pretty bundle of contradictions before him that composed the Azure Sky. Then, he hid his smile with a drink. He took a long drink of his "tea" that wasn't. "Tea" that tasted like vodka but would never get him drunk. No matter how much he'd like to be drunk right about now.

_Was the number three or four thus far? Three perhaps, three too many, too young by far to have taken sick so_. Still they had, and though one had escaped, this one though he didn't know it, it had been luck and nothing more. He was hardly comforted by that last thought. Traces left by hackers had been found at the latest scene, electronic fingerprints stripped of all trace. Ironic how that lack of trace, that "indigenous to the World" marking gave away the very identity of the hacker.

Helba… he half growled at the thought of her mere name, then shelved it with another pull. Pull done; he set the cup aside for now. Meeting the knight's eyes the administrator nodded. No "get over here" needed, the boy –yes, boy though the avatar looked to be a man the person behind it was not- trooped over. Quietly obedient that one, he'd have to bring that up as an example next board meeting with his insubordinate subordinates in attendance. Wordlessly taking his seat, pointedly folding his wings just so, the Azure Sky settled and to that stimuli an idle NPC snapped to life.

Over all the motion was a touch too prompt, like a man being tugged by an invisible string, but few noticed. Falling into trademark politeness, Balmung made his order, and Lios took advantage of that quiet span to polish off his drink.

"And while you're at it, fill this would you?" Sliding the now empty cup to the NPC the Admin added. "No rush, though."

To that the computer controlled barkeep nodded, shuffled off, and was pre-programed to know that "no rush" meant come back when I call you back. It all but guaranteed them some privacy. As much as a public place well after midnight would allow them, anyways.

"Glad to see you're better." Lios said in greeting, and to that Balmung cracked a cautious smile.

"Was I that transparent?"

"To be blunt, yes. You're last mail came across as unsettled, but I'm glad to see you shook it off."

For a long moment Balmung said nothing, though something made his lips press into a thin line. Call it a mix mash of instinct and experience but the Admin knew something was up. From the knights reluctance to articulate it, it must have something to do with the Real. Had it been World related he'd have tossed it up on the table for them both to worry over, after all it was the boy's job. What was unsaid lingered, thickened, than with a sigh the knight set his face into a pseudo placidity that fooled no one and was pathetically forced.

"I got some sleep, that helped."

"That's good."

And the following silence hung about them. Thick and cloying, and no little bit choking. Both wished for distraction, be it mugs that weren't, or idle chit chat. Yet neither knew the other well enough to make even banter safe, small talk was a lost art to them both, and Lios held back from calling the server over. Held back, and hoped, prayed the knight would shoe his age at long last.

_Do something stupid, _he prayed _say something rash, brazen, even idiotic. Something, anything that gets me off this hook_.

For any show of immaturity now with so much as stake would excuse Lios this final task. Generous severance pay, a glowing recommendation, and they'd be quits. The boy would keep his wings, free gaming for a year, and it would be done. So he prayed, to a god he'd stopped believing in years ago. It had been years since he'd done so, not since….

Well happier times, then that moment's desperation, than never more, save this one digression.

Then as from the head of a stranger, his own thought revisited.

_Three is three too many_

Looking at the young man's face into features sickly pale and a frame warrior strong, Lios sighed. Closed his golden eyes. He felt old, was _made_ old by the comparison between himself and this would be knight. A pseudo samurai, who held to honor when most of his generation didn't know the meaning of the word. A child who strived for enlightenment, exchanging games for investigation when he knew something wasn't right. Opening his eyes, holding the knight in a gaze of gold, Lios considered courage. And grieved courage's cost.

"We've shut down all the root towns save Mac Anu." He noted, only that.

Equally minimalist the knight nodded waited.

"Official statement is, and I quote _technical difficultie_s." Lios took a breath; let it out, than dared. "Do you believe that?"

Sparing a glance first left than right, the knight confirmed they were alone before shaking his head. No. He didn't believe.

"We've three people near death, ran into what you and Orca fought or something like it and passed out. Two are in intensive care, one's in hospice. If she's still alive, that is."

"Three people!" Balmung gasped.

"Dead, or as good as. Vegetative state, repressed brainwave, with only a ghost of physical reflex to show they're alive. Each ran into a… "bug" is the official jargon. Unlike you, they didn't run, which is why you are here and they are not."

Silence filled a moment, took two, as Balmung slumped back into his chair and Lios waited. Waited for the bail out, the back out. Waited and hoped beyond such hypocritical activities as prayer, for this to go right. Eyes closed, posture screaming defeat, the Azure Sky all but folded into himself, blown away by how close it had been. Too close, he'd realize, that he'd walk out and Lios would give that severance check and be done with it all.

"What servers, what areas?" It came out through gritted teeth, that last bit.

"All save Mac Anu."

"My God." With a shuddering sight the knight opened his eyes; the realized could have been so very alive in those eyes. "Three people. What… what's the company doing?" Then with such sincerity it made the Admin curse, inside, he added. "What can I do?"

"Nothing… and nothing. "

Incredulous indignation caused the knight to stand wings flared face flushed. Lips trembling, gaze so wounded it stung all who were regarded. He stared down at his superior, disbelieving to say the least.

"What?"

A whisper that, so ragged it was nearly incoherent.

"Sit down you fool!" Lios hissed snatching at the knights wrists he hauled the young man back towards the chair with on almighty tug. Taking his seat –it creaked as he sat back down- the Admin. motioned for silence. Drawn by the disturbance -string drawn another NPC- the Admin opened his mouth to snap a code word that would drive it off. Balmung beat him to it.

"Go away, and don't come back."

So bidden, the AI obeyed, scurrying off. While harsh, it wasn't unreasonably so, all considered. Blue gaze venomous the knight pointed look made that an order that Lios was more than welcome to try on for size. Meeting that passionate look with a placid façade, Lios gave his subordinate a few moments too cool down. Those moments came and went, and when the stern, unbending look that screamed "I'm pissed, bite, and am rabid you have your shots right?" look faded Lios spoke.

"They want you gone, you know. You've seen a lot, and any posts related to this are being deleted. Anyone talking about it had their character data "corrupted" by "accident" and their flashmail "deleted during "routine maintenance"."

"You can't keep something like this quiet!" Balmung snapped.

To that Lios growled, letting the boy see a hint of his temper from his boss. Instead of scaring him, making him go timid, the knight simply stiffened. Waited.

"I don't agree with what they're doing." Lios confided, edge still very much present. "Or what they'll make me do." Golden eyes locked on blue, trying to drill his meaning home occularly. "Do you understand?"

Swallowing, sick, the Azure Sky nodded.

"Now knowing what you know… Now that is. If I said "you did good, thank you for your effort, here's your last check, one year's free subscription, and you get to keep your character data" what would you say to me?"

"Go to Hell." That hung between them, unsurprising save for the placid seeming tone. Like any adolescent Balmung did passive aggressive very well. "If you won't fix things I will."

And to that, Lios grinned, a fierce smile akin to one shared at Sin's fall.

"I don't believe in hell." The Admin confided. "Or heaven. Just people. From time to time." He conceded. "When they prove themselves by doing what's right."

With a chuckle the Admin loosed his grip. "Since God has no care for what happens in this world of zeros and ones of ours it's up to us. I'm no higher power, but I am up there enough to make a difference. To give an insight when we get stuck, and I have enough resources to know where to start."

We, mulling over that the Azure Sky smiled, found he liked it.

"When do we start?"

Beckoning a server Lios didn't answer, not right as first. Too busy taking their orders for a while. Sure he'd heard, more than a little surprised at what was ordered, Balmung waited. Only when the two glasses (one sake one vodka) were left behind did Lios look to him. Golden eyes grave.

"After this drink we'll hammer something out, and not one second before."

Not sure if it was a joke, the Azure Sky simply smiled and sipped content for now to give his drink his total attention. Across from him Lios took his time as well. Mind a thousand miles away, he dwelled of courage, and fools, and would be heroes in imaginary worlds.

And of three, maybe four, too many. One was too many. And bitter truth be told he sat across from number five, and he'd be number six if this went wrong. Sipping vodka, wishing it was real so he could wash out the taste of the biter, he in truth consumed nothing. So it remained with him, his bitter desperate thoughts, and no illusion could wash them away.


	14. You have Mail

Sterile Skies

Epilogue: for real's this time

You have mail

Finished editing all 14 chapters, yeah! Edited 11/3/10

It was a dated cry, reminiscent of computer generations ago. Literally though it was one generation back... well half of one. But electronically speaking that was old school, and beyond. Still, he was drawn to the archaic, and after a few sake's in the World had been feeling... well not tipsy since that wasn't possible. But there was sleep deprivation to consider, and the worries and the stressing coming and going had loosened his tongue to confess that he'd heard about it, and was interested. So, all bemused, Lios had indulged his fancy with the dated. One flashmail later and through a little installation of a trigger and an mp3 sound bite and... Well he had it. That call, linked to his mail, and it greeted him every time he opened his mail considering how busy his account was. Fan mail, most of it, and experience taught him to junk ninety percent of it. The more incoherent ten percent he saved, occasionally reading those to Orca and they'd both share a good laugh over the... well bubbly, babbling jammed into the letter.

Not exactly nice of them, but still, some of the stuff was out and out hilarious, and he couldn't help himself. So he saved the juicer bits, stuffed them in a side folder, and read the important mails from work. One forum, a few from Lios enlightening him on the technical and boring slant of computer based investigations. He'd have printed the later most of those work mails, but the text docs were protected, another effort to keep what was confidential confidential. After all, no way for the company to keep a lid on information that was printed, no way at all. Two party invites, (both by 'Mary, those he deleted with a shudder) party invite reminders (same source, disposed of just as fast as the original invites had been), and when everything was cleaned out he smiled.

It was so nice to have everything in its place, and put away, very nice after all.

Staring at the blue of CC Corps standard desk top he stared at each logo, the top most tempting him. Tempting so badly.

"Satoshi, get off the bloody computer, we're going to be late!" Father roared from the stair well.

Late to where, you might ask? To another outing, some intellectual fiasco that he'd managed to skip out on the surprise of earlier... revelations. Now that the surprise had worn off he was conscripted to go out on a different day, the same place, but a different day. And right after school, on a work night no less.

All in all it was a rather transparent ploy, one that hinted almost at torture. Get him up early, keep him going all day, than let him try to honor a promise that would keep him up well past midnight. A promise that would require the full extent of his capabilities to muddle through. One that couldn't be put off.

_Three, maybe four, one was too many..._

In that he and Lios felt the same, and that would be enough. Lios would be sympathetic to this, would have to be considering that "this" was in fact his everyday real life now. As for what the adolescent who was sometimes known as the Azure Sky, all he could do was blunt the damages. And towards that end he'd done what he could. A quick cat nap at lunch, another in history, and he was reasonably refreshed. Enough to get through whatever "enlightenment" his parents loved to inflict, and perhaps with luck he'd snatch another nap in the car before they got there and that should carry him through to the early morning hours his duty inflicted on him.

So hoping on luck, not really expecting it but trying to be optimistic, he smoothed his best clothes in place with a weary hand and stood. For now he'd leave temptation behind. With a twiddle of his fingers he confirmed than changed his password. That done, he powered the unit down. Watching its lights dim he reflected on the fact that he was always changing his password. At every log out he tweaked the lock as it were, a security measure demanded from him by the corporation that was pitting itself against a slew of hackers.

_God help us all if they get into my computer_.

His thought sounded almost alien to him, but it wasn't, it was familiar, and he cursed knowing the source. The last was nearly Balmung like, in tone and cadence, no, not nearly, _it was_. And to that little revelation Satoshi shook his head. Using the small motion to better drive the ghost out, for Balmung was never unsure, never hesitated, and certainly never conceded he was wrong…. Balmung was already taking too much of his time, he wouldn't let a figment of his (and honestly -considering the raw amount of fans Balmung was nearly a celebrity online _and_ off- the public's imagination) take over his life. And, though he knew the tone, and the cadence, he had to wonder. Who were "they" the hackers, or his mother and father?

Mercifully that internal voice that spoke truth more often than not was silence. Clearly there were areas best left alone and depths best left unplumbed.

There were truths best left unknown. So Lios had mourned, third cup in. Spoken in tones so heartfelt Bal- Satoshi had to wonder if the man was sipping some real vodka in the Real to match what he downed in the World. If he did, reasonable enough, just _thinking_ about what was going on made him wish he was of age. He'd have nipped to the nearest bar and taken a few himself. After the meeting of course. Even now the temptation to block it out either chemically or... well by being ignorant again... hung about him. He could, and Lios had mentioned it sixteen times that day, back out. Better for him if he did. Safer for him if he did.

Because if he didn't... Well he hadn't, and he'd been sworn to secrecy (a vow he'd taken, quieter than his other vow but no less fervent) fully knowing that CC Corp would claim his coma/death unrelated to the game. There would be no medical coverage for him as his "injury" wasn't "work related". He'd be severed from said company, his PC wiped out via a virus inserted with the sound bite clip. He hadn't been thrilled to know about that right at first. After his second cup though he'd admitted that the company had had a point, if he wasn't around his computer was little more than junk anyways. Anyways Lios had promised up and down to remove the dormant virus if things turned out OK but leave the clip in. Satoshi really liked that sound clip. Balmung as the character data would cease to exist, one breath of virus on him and he'd be wiped clean assuming that he was a spreader of said virus.

Which meant, look but do not touch. Satoshi had laughed when Lios had put it that way. And despite the grim slant of their topic, well Lios had finally smiled after a night of scarcely smiling at all. Over all, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, and that was good enough for now.

"Satosi, get your tail _down_ here!" Father snarled. "Or I swear I'll come up and drag you down, we're going to be_ late_."

You would think, Satoshi mused as he pushed in the chair, unplugging his computer, than turned to leave after all his tidying chores were done, that being late was one of the darkest sins. Tardiness, from father's tone alone, was comparable to murder, or rape, or torment, or some other crime beyond naming. Checking a sigh (too Balmung like that, and if he indulged that much he'd say something sharp and to the point that lateness wasn't so dire a sin the world and World would end because of it) Satoshi squared his shoulders and after opening the door began his descent into more normal things. Despite how much he really didn't want to, to descend, or confront normal, or anything of the like.

In one world, I'm a warrior, one with wings, with a blade drawn from heaven's watery arch. I wield that blade in justice's name, righting wrongs, seeking flaws in the flawless. I make the World a better place just be being... and that was enough.

In the other, the Real, I'm constantly faced with my own flaws. Unable to correct, merely given enough to endure rebuke, I go on winding the same circles hoping for a breakthrough. Or perhaps a savior. Because every time I try to save myself I'm stopped at every turn and sent back to that circle, my burden heavier than before.

Thinking those thoughts, mulling on the juxtaposition of his roles, he joined mother and father without saying a word, not even to apologize for his latest transgression. That set father off, but honestly he didn't hear it. Didn't care. Closing his eyes, he endured as best he could, holding to his silence. Already tired and worn and horribly aware that this wasn't the end, it was the start that he hadn't even started yet.

The first step is the hardest.

It better be, else he was in another circle, one that wound down into hell. With all the good intentions in the world driving him on, he was dangerously close to living out that cliché...

And falling by it.

"Let's just go already, so we aren't late." Satoshi suggested.

Hardly placated, father shelved his frustrations for the time being if only to drive them faster. To where, who cared? They were going, and for now that's all that seemed to matter to him. Going out, away from the World, if pushing would have done so, he'd have shoved his son so hard and fast he'd have bruises to show for it.

Knowing that, and enduring, Satoshi submitted, for now.

_Author's closing note,_

_Well, this is it. I adlibbed this RL chapter for only one reason, to have a reason to leave an author's note at the end. I want to thank Seiht and Battou (I'm skipping the longer parts of your pen name, hope you don't mind!) for your wonderful reviews, and any and all who read here after. As the heading suggests this is the last chapter for Sterile. Over all a fourteen chapter Prologue is short for me, but I'm already hard at work on the sequel "Gossamer Edges" but it's not up yet as I'm still hammering out some issues with my notes. Right now I've plans to carry on the story, one story for each game, same perspective of course, alternating between Lios and Balmung by turn. Here's the list (tentative titles may change)_

_INFECTION: Gossamer edge_

_MUTATION: Nights shadows_

_OUTBREAK: Tales from Horizon's Line_

_QUARINTINE: Memories of heaven's Arch_

_As you can see (typos aside, sorry no spell check today) I've snatched up the titles from the liminality openings and applied them to the titles of my novelizations (around the edges anyway). Again, these might change, don't know yet. Also, I'm going to go back and edit Sterile for typos per a suggestion, and leave the text untouched beyond basic clean up. Well, that's it for me, till next tale._

_Kasan Soulblade_


End file.
